Dear Brother,
I have just received your letter. Thanks for your sympathy,
thanks for the money “for the ticket.” Thanks for
your opinion about my drawings, though it is more favourable
than I deserve. Continue writing me about my work. Do not fear
your remarks will hurt me; I will take such criticism as proofs
of sympathy, worth a thousand times more than flattery. You
tell me practical things, from you I must learn to become
practical; so preach me many a sermon, for I do not refuse to
be converted and I am greatly in need of conversion.
I do not think I ever received money more gratefully than
those ten guilders from you, for the thought that, if I
had to go, I should be unable to, was so unbearable to
me; now I have at least one string to my bow. I should have
gone long ago if I had only had the ten guilders. However, I
must be sure of her being at home when I go. Now I am
corresponding continually with our sister Willemien, who is on
the lookout and will warn me, for she is going to
Haarlem; I shall hear from W. when she goes back to
Amsterdam.
Oh, Theo, there is so much depth in her character, but one
does not see it at once. She, you and I, we all have an outer
bark of lightheartedness, but inside is a trunk of firmer wood,
and hers is of a fine grain! Well, we shall see how things
go.
If you too should perhaps have a love story, tell me all about
it, and trust my discretion. If I were not “one who has
been down,” but on the contrary one who has always stood
firm, I should be worse than useless to you, but as I have been
in that mysterious deep well of misery of the heart, there is a
shadow of a chance that I may be able to give you some
practical advice in some affair of the heart. I go to you for
help with my drawings and practical affairs, who knows whether
I for my part cannot be of some use to you in relation to some
difficulties in love.
For myself I learn much from father Michelet. Be sure to read
L'Amour et la Femme, and if you can get it, My Wife and I, and
Our Neighbors by Beecher Stowe, or Jane Eyre and Shirley by
Currer Bell. Those people can tell you more and better things
than I can.
The men and women who may be considered to stand at the head
of modem civilization - for instance Michelet and Beecher
Stowe, Carlyle and George Eliot and so many others - they call
to you:
“Oh, man, whoever you are, with a heart in your bosom,
help us to found something real, eternal, true; limit yourself
to one profession and love one woman only. Let your profession
be a modern one and may you help your wife to attain a modern
soul, deliver her from the terrible prejudices which shackle
her. Have no doubt of God's help if you do what God wants you
to do, and God wants us in these days to reform the world by
reforming morals, by renewing the light and the fire of eternal
love. By these means you will succeed and at the same time have
a good influence on those around you, be the number large or
small, according to your circumstances.”
In my opinion these are the words that Michelet says to us in
general. We are full-grown men now and are standing like
soldiers in the rank and file of our generation. We do not
belong to the same one as Father and Mother and Uncle Stricker;
we must be more faithful to the modern than to the old one - to
look back toward the old one is fatal. If the older people do
not understand us, it must not upset us, and we must go our own
way against their will; later on they will say of their own
accord, Yes, you were right after all.
Though perhaps you will now think me rather well informed in
some things, in many others, you will find me very stupid and
ignorant - alas, in this feverish and hurried modem life we
become so one-sided. But should you or I doubt our right to
propose to a girl, and should we be doubtful of our success in
the end?
No doubt it is presumptuous to be sure of oneself, but one
certainly may believe, My soul's anguish will not have been in
vain, and I will fight my battle notwithstanding all my own
weaknesses and faults; I will fight as well as I can.
Though I fall ninety-nine times, the hundredth time I shall
stand. And what are they talking about means of subsistence
for, as if I had none! What artist has not struggled and
toiled, and what other way is there but struggling and toiling
to gain a foothold. And since when has a draughtsman no chance
of earning his living?
I began to draw a man busy digging potatoes in a field again.
And I put in a little more of the surroundings. Some bushes in
the background, and a streak of sky. I cannot tell you, boy,
how beautiful that field is! When I have earned a little more
money and am able to spend more on models, I tell you I shall
make quite different things still.
But it is hard work for the models too, I can tell you. The
more so because those I have are not professional models, and
perhaps that much better for it. If you ever have a chance to
get somebody interested in my work, I think you can now begin
to speak about me with some assurance. But in order to do
better work, I shall have to spend more on models. Now I spend
20, 25 or 30 cents a day, but I cannot do that every day, and
it really is not enough; by spending a little more, I could
make more rapid progress.
Well, this winter I shall not be able to work in the open air
with a model, but I can work indoors, and that is beautiful
too. Once more, thanks for the money, boy! It is very kind of
you and very humane! A warm handshake in thought, and believe
me,
Yours sincerely, Vincent
At this time, Vincent was 28 year oldSource: Vincent van Gogh. Letter to Theo van Gogh. Written 19 November 1881 in Etten. Translated by Mrs. Johanna van Gogh-Bonger, edited by Robert Harrison, number 160. URL: https://www.webexhibits.org/vangogh/letter/10/160.htm.
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