Relevant paintings: "City street with diggers," Vincent van Gogh [Enlarge]
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Dear Theo,
I sometimes think, If my life were somewhat easier, how much
more and how much better I should then be able to work! But I
do work, and as you must have noticed from my last drawings, I
begin to see a light that will conquer the difficulties. But
you know that in addition to the exertion of drawing, scarcely
a day passes without bringing some difficulty or other which in
itself would be hard enough to bear. And, you see, there is a
sorrow which I think I don't really deserve - at least I don't
know in what way I deserve it - and which I should like to get
rid of. You must tell me frankly, if you will be so kind,
whether you know the cause of the following, and can give me
any information about it.
Near the end of January, I think a fortnight after my
arrival here, Mauve's attitude toward me changed suddenly -
became as unfriendly as it had been friendly before. I ascribed
it to his not being satisfied with my work, and I was so
anxious and worried over it that it quite upset me and made me
ill, as I wrote you at the time. Mauve then came to see me, and
again reassured me that everything would turn out all right,
and encouraged me.
But then on a certain evening shortly thereafter, he again
began to speak to me in such a different way that it seemed as
if quite a different man was before me. I thought, My dear
friend, it seems as if they have poisoned your ear with
slander; but I was in the dark as to the side from which the
poisonous wind had blown. Among other things, Mauve began to
imitate my speech and my manners, saying, “Your face
looks like this,” “You speak like this” - all
in a spiteful way. But he is very clever at those things, and I
must say it was like a good caricature of me, but drawn with
hatred.
On that occasion he said a few things that only Tersteeg
used to say, and I asked him, Mauve, have you seen Tersteeg
lately? “No,” said Mauve, and we talked on, but
about ten minutes later he remarked that Tersteeg had been to
see him that same day.
Then involuntarily the thought of Tersteeg stayed with me,
and I thought, Is it possible, my dear Tersteeg, that you are
behind all this? And I wrote him a note, not impolite,
deliberately not impolite, I only said to him, Sir, I am so
sorry when things such as “You do not earn your
living” or “You do not work” are said about
me; you must understand such things are too unreasonable for me
to let them pass, and they dishearten me. During recent years I
have had too many such things to grieve me, and I think there
must come an end to it now.
This was the note which Tersteeg spoke to you about on his
first visit to Paris.
When he came back from Paris, I went to see him and told him
that if I had charged him with things for which he was not
responsible, I hoped he would excuse me, because I was quite in
the dark as to the cause of my difficulty. Well, then he was
very kind to me again - but though I still visited Mauve once
in a while, Mauve was moody and rather unkind. And I was told
he was not at home a few times, in short, there were all the
signs of a decided estrangement. I went to see him less and
less, and Mauve never came to my house again, though it is not
far away.
Mauve's talk also became narrow-minded, if I may call it so,
as it used to be broad-minded. I had to draw from casts, that
was the principal thing, he said. I hate drawing from casts,
but I had a few plaster hands and feet hanging in my studio,
though not for drawing purposes. Once he spoke to me about
drawing from casts in a way such as the worst teacher at the
academy would not have spoken; I kept quiet, but when I got
home I was so angry that I threw those poor plaster casts into
the coalbin, and they were smashed to pieces. And I thought, I
will draw from those casts only when they become whole and
white again, and when there are no more hands and feet of
living beings to draw from.
Then I said to Mauve, Man, don't mention plaster to me
again, because I can't stand it. That was followed by a note
from Mauve, telling me that he would not have anything to do
with me for two months. Indeed, we did not see each other
during those two months, but meanwhile I have not been idle,
though I have not drawn from casts, I can tell you, and I must
say I worked with more animation and earnestness once I was
free.
When the two months were almost up, I just wrote to
congratulate him on having finished his large picture, and once
I spoke to him on the street for a moment.
Now the two months have long since past, and he has not come
to see me. And since then things have happened with Tersteeg
which made me write Mauve: “Let us shake hands and not
feel animosity or bitterness toward each other, but it is too
difficult for you to guide me and it is too difficult for me to
be guided by you if you require `strict obedience' to all you
say - I cannot give that. So that's the end of the guiding and
being guided. But it does not alter my feeling of gratefulness
and obligation toward you.”
Mauve has not answered this and I have not seen him since.
What urged me to say to Mauve, We must each go our own way, was
the evidence that Tersteeg really influenced Mauve. I learned
it from Tersteeg himself when he told me he would see to it
that you stopped sending me money, “Mauve and I will see
to it that there is an end to this.”
I then wrote H. G. Tersteeg a less amiable note than the
first - and I particularly thanked him for his kind endeavours
to “guide” me. This time I thought fit to speak my
mind, Theo, for you see, I remembered that on the first evening
I recognized one of H. G. T.'s expressions, Mauve did not want
to confess he had seen him. And then I thought, Well, Tersteeg,
are these your “distinguished manners,” that first
you go and poison Mauve's mind, and later try to take from me
the only assistance I receive! I didn't know such things were
called “distinguished manners”; I thought they were
called treachery.
Can you understand now that I am sometimes grieved over many
things, grieved to the heart; and that I am grieved about
Mauve? For though I shouldn't want to have the same
“guidance” from him again, I should like to shake
hands with him once more, and I wish he would do the same with
me.
Do you perhaps know something that I do not, or can you give
me some information about this matter? Adieu.
Yours sincerely, Vincent
Forgive me if I trouble you about it, but, you see, I am so
in the dark. I finished another drawing of a woman's figure
such as “Sorrow,” but larger and I think better
than the first; and I am doing a drawing of a street where they
are digging to lay sewer or water pipes, “Diggers in a
Trench.”
Breitner is still in the hospital and will perhaps have to
stay there another month.
I am making the drawings for C. M., but I have been so
depressed about what I have written you that it hindered my
work; and then I thought, I must have light, perhaps Theo can
give me some information.
At this time, Vincent was 29 year oldSource: Vincent van Gogh. Letter to Theo van Gogh. Written c. 15-27 April 1882 in The Hague. Translated by Mrs. Johanna van Gogh-Bonger, edited by Robert Harrison, number 189. URL: https://www.webexhibits.org/vangogh/letter/11/189.htm.
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