Dear Mother,
To begin with, I want to congratulate you, though late, upon
your birthday.
Twice already I started a letter, which I put away again, as
my head did not feel like writing. How much I agree with you in
seeking other surroundings after Cor's departure, for some
time.
There was much news in your latest letters: first the
particulars of Cor's departure, and further that you are going
to move in November. I can understand that you prefer to be
nearer your grandchildren. Yet it will be a strange feeling to
think that none of us has stayed in Brabant.
I intend to send you a picture shortly, and one to Wil too;
I am working on them and will surely have them ready by the end
of the month. But it may still be a fortnight before they are
dry enough to be sent off.
These last weeks I have been, as far as my health is
concerned, quite well, and
I am working from morning till evening almost without
interruption, day after day, and I lock myself up in the studio
to have no distraction. Thus it is a great consolation for me
that the work is progressing instead of declining, and that I
do it with absolute calmness and that in this respect my
thoughts are quite clear and conscious. And so, compared with
others here who cannot do anything, I certainly have no reason
to complain.
Recently I wrote Theo that I should like to be less far away
from Paris for a while, and probably something will come of
this. Not that I am unwilling to yield my freedom for the sake
of being less trouble to others when it becomes too bad, but
for the moment it comes to about the same thing. And there are
so many among the artists who - notwithstanding nervous
diseases or epileptic fits from time to time - nevertheless go
ahead, and in a painter's life it seems to be enough to make
paintings, but also one has to be careful not to spoil one's
connections with other painters. My health during the intervals
is so good, and that I
believe it will still take years before I am quite incapable,
which I feared in the beginning would be the case
immediately.
However, I fear I shall again find out in the course of time
that not every procrastination is a thief of time when one has
to do with illness. But there seems to be no rule for it, and
the physician repeated to me several times that one cannot say
anything about it beforehand. But if one knows that it is a
chronic disease, you will understand that one, though
absolutely perplexed in the beginning, gets used to the
thought, and then considers what one can still do. And this
might be even more than one expects.
In the beginning I was so dejected that I had no desire even
to see my friends again and to work, and now the desire for
these two things is stirring, and then there is the fact that
one's appetite and health are perfect during the intervals. And
I am so longing for Theo and his wife, whom I haven't even seen
yet, and I am interested in everything. And when I think that
this is no time for me to look for new friends, I think that
much more of my present and former friends.
Yet I understand that I must not ponder this too deeply, as
it may have to be settled quite differently than I sometimes
imagine, and besides I do not cherish any definite desire. Only
I am anything but patient when I am not feeling well, though I
have a rather solid stock of patience for my work. But that is
literally all.
As often as I have the chance, I work at portraits, which I
myself sometimes think are better and more serious than the
rest of my work. And if it might happen that my condition
allows me to go back to Paris or its vicinity, that will
probably be the important thing for me.
And now I say goodbye to you for today, forgive my not
writing before, and I hope to send you the paintings I am
making for you shortly. Embracing you in thought,
Your loving Vincent
At this time, Vincent was 36 year oldSource: Vincent van Gogh. Letter to His Parents. Written 19 September 1889 in Saint-Rémy. Translated by Mrs. Johanna van Gogh-Bonger, edited by Robert Harrison, number 606. URL: https://www.webexhibits.org/vangogh/letter/20/606.htm.
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