October 6, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]


Paris, 6 Oct. 1875


My dear Theo,

Even though I wrote to you only recently, I want to do so again anyway, because I know how difficult life can sometimes be. Keep your chin up, old boy, after rain comes sunshine, just keep hoping for that.

Rain and sunshine alternate on ‘the road that goes uphill all the way, yes to the very end’, and from time to time one also rests on ‘the journey that takes the whole day long, from morn till night’. So think now and often after this, that ‘this also will pass away’.

And especially, you too should ask: Create in me a new heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.

Today I had the opportunity to send a package to Anna and Willemien. Among other things I sent her L’imitation de Jesus Christ and several books of the Bible, published separately, in the same edition as the Psalms I sent you.

Read them faithfully. Would you perhaps like the Gospels and some of the epistles, printed separately?

I also sent Anna several prints – including Rembrandt, Reading the Bible and The supper at Emmaus (an old engraving, by De Frey, I believe), Philippe de Champaigne, Portrait of a lady, a large, beautiful etching after Chaigneau, Shepherdess and sheep, and then Dupré, Evening, Troyon, Morning, Bodmer, Fontainebleau, Français, Last fine days, Frère, Seamstresses, and A cooper, Daubigny, After sunset, &c. &c., as well as a couple of photos, namely of Delaroche, Gethsemane No. 424, Good Friday and Mater Dolorosa and Brion, The farewells.

I hope so much that things will continue to go well for Anna there. She keeps up her courage, I know so well that she sometimes finds things so difficult.

And yet ‘one has one’s good days’ as Jules Dupré often said, let’s go on believing that.

I’d very much like to have the Dutch hymns. When you get the opportunity, do you think you could manage to send the cheapest edition that can be found? I have the Psalms.

There are also some beautiful English hymns, including this one:



Thy way not mine, o Lord

However dark it be,

Lead me by thine own hand

Choose out the path for me.



I dare not choose my lot;

I would not if I might;

Choose Thou for me, my God,

So shall I walk aright.



The kingdom that I seek,

Is thine; so let the way

That leads to it be thine

Else I must surely stray.



Choose Thou for me my friend

My sickness, or my health;

Choose Thou my cares for me,

My poverty my wealth.



Not mine, not mine, the choice

In things or great or small

Be Thou my Guide my strength

My wisdom and my all.



and the following:



Nearer my God to Thee

Nearer to Thee!

E’en though it be a cross

That raiseth me;

Still all my song shall be

Nearer my God to Thee

Nearer to Thee.




Though like a wanderer,

The sun gone down,

Darkness come over me

My rest a stone;

Yet in my dreams I’d be

Nearer, my God, to Thee

Nearer to Thee!




There let my way appear

Steps unto Heaven;

All that Thou sendest me

In mercy given

Angels to beckon me

Nearer, my God, to Thee

Nearer to Thee.




Oft in sorrow and in woe

Onward, Christians, onward go;

Fight the fight, maintain the strife,

Strengthen’d with the bread of life.




Let your drooping hearts be glad;

March in heavenly armour clad:

Fight, nor think the battle long,

Soon shall vict’ry tune your song




Let not sorrow dim your eye,

Soon shall ev’ry tear be dry;

Let not fear your course impede,

Great your strength, if great your need!



Give my regards to my acquaintances. How is Caroline van Stockum? Give my special regards to her, and believe me


Your most loving brother

Vincent



Does the road go uphill then all the way?

‘Yes to the very end’.

And will the journey take all day long?

‘From morn till night, my friend’.

September 30, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 30 Sept. 1875.


My dear Theo,

Herewith the book about Michel that I promised you, also an etching after the Margaret by Scheffer and a lithograph after Corot, and a package of chocolate.

I do know that things aren’t easy for you at the moment, old chap, but remain steadfast and be brave; ‘Not to dream, not to sigh’ is also necessary sometimes.

You know ‘that you are not alone but that the Father is with you’. I shake your hand heartily in thought. Ever,


Your loving brother
Vincent


Please keep the enclosed etching after Rembrandt, along with the photos of the Corot and the Jules Breton sent previously, until Pa and Ma are comfortably settled in Etten, and send them then, at the end of November for example.

September 29, 1875

Paris, 29 Sept. 1875

My dear Theo,

Be careful, old boy, don’t lose your resilience.

See things as they are, and, for yourself, don’t think everything good.

One can deviate, both to the left hand and to the right hand. Remember what Pa no doubt once told you too: understanding and feeling must go together.

Warm regards and ever,

Your loving brother

Vincent

Write again soon.

I advised you to go out quite a lot, but if you don’t like it, don’t do it. You know that I didn’t go out so very much either, and that people often remarked upon it.

How much I’d like for us to be able to breakfast together or drink a cup of chocolate in my room. Keep well, old chap. Don’t take things that don’t concern you directly too much to heart, and don’t let them weigh upon you too heavily. How is it going, eating bread? Have you tried it yet? In haste, I shake your hand heartily in thought.

September 27, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 27 Sept. 1875.

My dear Theo,

‘The kingdom of God cometh not with observation: the kingdom of God is within you.’ ‘The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister’, and we who want to become His disciples, Christians, we are no better than our Master. Blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are the pure in heart.

Narrow is the way, which leadeth unto Life, and few there be that find it. Strive to enter in at the strait gate: for many will seek to enter in, and shall not be able.

My brother, let us take care; let us ask Him who is above, who also maketh intercession for us, that He should not take us out of the world, but that He should keep us from the evil. Yea, let us watch and be sober, let us trust in the Lord with all our heart, and lean not unto our own understanding. Let us ask that He compel us to come in, that He give us a Christian life to fulfil; that He teach us to deny ourselves, daily to take up our cross and to follow Him; to be meek, longsuffering, and lowly in heart.

A part which shall not be taken away, a well of living water springing up into everlasting life, these are the good gifts that He who heareth prayer, the Giver of all perfect gifts, will give to those who pray to Him for them.

And in addition to all this, the assurance that there is ‘a house of the Father in which there are many mansions, and that when He has prepared a place for us there He will draw all men unto Him. And to comfort us in this life, on our way to our Father’s house, ‘the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, who will guide us into all truth’. The Christian life nevertheless has its dark side too; it is mainly men’s work.

Those who walk with God, God’s friends, God’s pious followers, those who worship Him in Spirit and in Truth, have been proved and tried, and have oft-times received from God a thorn in the flesh; blessed will we be when we can repeat after our father, Paul: when I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child: but now that I have become a man, I put away childish things, and I became, and God made me: sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.

Write to me soon, and give my regards to all my acquaintances, and believe me

Your loving brother

Vincent.

September 25, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 25 Sept. 1875

My dear Theo,

The way is narrow,1 so we must be careful. You know how others have arrived where we wish to go; let us take that simple path as well. ora et labora.

Let us do our daily work, whatever the hand finds to do, with all our might, and let us believe that God will give good gifts, a part that shall not be taken away, to those who pray to Him for it. And let us trust in God with all our heart and lean not unto our own understanding. God’s will and not ours.

‘Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new’. II Cor. 5:18.

I’m going to get rid of all my books by Michelet &c. &c., you should too.

How I’m longing for Christmas, but let’s be patient, that time will come soon enough.

Keep well, old chap, and give my regards to all my acquaintances, and believe me

Your loving brother

Vincent

I’ll send the money for the frames as soon as possible; when I write to Mr Tersteeg I’ll tell him that I don’t have much money at the moment, because I’ve asked our cashier to keep back part of my monthly wages as I’ll be needing a good deal of money around Christmas for my trip &c.

I hope, though, that it won’t be so very long before I can send it.

If I were you I wouldn’t go to Borchers all that often.

Don’t you find these words beautiful? I Cor 2:4 and 5

For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.

And my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, that your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.

September 17, 1875

Paris, 17 Sept. 1875.

My dear Theo,

Feeling, even a fine feeling, for the beauties of nature isn’t the same as religious feeling, although I believe that the two are closely connected. The same is true of a feeling for art. Don’t give in to that too much either.

Hold fast especially to your love for the firm and for your work and to respect for Mr Tersteeg. Later on you’ll see, better than now, that he deserves it. You don’t have to take it to extremes, though.

Nearly everyone has a feeling for nature, some more than others, but there are few who feel that God is a spirit, and they that worship Him must worship him in spirit and in truth. Pa is one of the few, Ma too, and also Uncle Vincent, I believe.

You know that it is written ‘The world passeth away and all its glory’, and that on the other hand there are also the words ‘that part which shall not be taken away’, about ‘a well of living water springing up into everlasting life’. Let us also pray that we may become rich in God. But don’t think too deeply about these things, which will become clearer to you of themselves with time , and just do what I’ve advised you to do. Let us ask for our part in life that we may become the poor in the kingdom of God, God’s servants. We haven’t achieved this yet, however, for often there are beams in our eye of which we ourselves are unaware; let us ask that our eye may become single, for then we shall be completely single.

My regards to the Rooses and if anyone should ask after me, and believe me ever,

Your loving brother

Vincent

September 13, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 13 Sept. 1875.

My dear Theo,

The photographs of the J. Breton and the Corot are for Helvoirt; the rest are for you.

Send on the Helvoirt ones when you have the opportunity, but I’ll do my best to get another copy of the Rembrandt, so perhaps it would be better to delay sending them until I’ve sent you that one as well.

You’ll have received my letter of yesterday by now.

Warm regards,

Vt.

September 12, 1875

Paris. 12 Sept. 1875.

My dear Theo,

Wings, wings above life!

Wings over the grave and death!

That’s what we need, and I’m beginning to see that we can acquire them. Doesn’t Pa have them, for instance? And you know how he got them, through prayer and the fruits thereof: patience and faith, and through the Bible, which was a light unto his path and a lamp unto his feet.

This afternoon I heard a beautiful sermon on ‘forget that which is behind you’ part of which was: ‘Have more hope than remembrances; what there was of seriousness and blessings in your past life is not lost; do not reflect on it any longer, you will find it elsewhere, but keep moving forward. All things are become new in Jesus Christ’.

Keep your chin up, and believe me

Your loving brother

Vincent

If it’s indeed true that childhood and youth are vanity (always bearing in mind what’s written above, and remembering that although one has to start anew later, a well-spent youth is worth a fortune), shouldn’t it then be our ambition and hope to become men like Pa and others? Let us both hope and pray for this. My regards to everyone who asks after me.

You know the etching by Rembrandt, Burgomaster Six standing in front of the window, reading. I know that Uncle Vincent and Cor like it very much, and I sometimes think that they must have looked like that when they were younger. You also know the portrait of Six when he was older, I believe there’s an engraving of it in your shop. That life of his must have been a fine and serious life.

September 9, 1875

My dear Theo,

You hadn’t expected to get this letter back again, had you?

No, old boy, this isn’t the path to follow.

The death of Weehuizen is certainly sad, but sad in a different way than you say.

Keep your eyes open and try to become strong and resolute. Was that book by Michelet really meant for him?

Actually, I’d like to suggest something to you, Theo, which will perhaps amaze you:

Read no more Michelet or any other book (except the Bible) until we’ve seen each other again at Christmas, and do what I told you, go often in the evenings to the Van Stockums, Borchers &c. I believe you won’t regret it, you’ll feel much freer as soon as you’ve started this regimen. Be careful with the words I underlined in your letter.


There is quiet melancholy, certainly, thank God, but I don’t know if we’re allowed to feel it yet, you see I say we, I no more than you.


Pa wrote to me recently ‘Melancholy does not hurt, but makes us see things with a holier eye’. That is true ‘quiet melancholy’, fine gold, but we aren’t that far yet, not by a long way. Let us hope and pray that we may come so far and believe me ever

Your loving brother
Vincent

I’m already a little bit further than you and already see, alas, that the expression ‘childhood and youth are vanity’ are almost completely true. So remain steadfast, old chap; I heartily shake your hand.

September 4, 1875

Paris, 4 Sept. 75

My dear Theo,

I’m sending you herewith my letter for Ma’s birthday, please enclose it with yours. I’ve bought a book about Michel, with etchings after his paintings; I’ll send it to you as soon as I’ve finished it. Michel, though, isn’t nearly so beautiful as that landscape described in that passage in Adam Bede, which we both found so moving. Bonington, too, almost painted it, and yet that isn’t it either.


When you’ve finished the book I’d like to ask you to give it in my name to Uncle Cor to read, when you have the opportunity of course, though I’m giving it to you. I see the paintings themselves, so naturally you can have the description and etchings after them.


My regards to the Haanebeeks, Carbentuses, Van Stockums, Mauve, Rooses &c. if the occasion presents itself. I wish you the very best. Ever

Your loving brother
Vincent

Give the book on Michel to Mr Tersteeg to read, too.

September 2, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 2 Sept. 1875

My dear Theo,

This morning I heard from Pa and from you the news of Uncle Jan’s death. Such things make us say, ‘O Lord, join us intimately to one another and let our love for Thee make that bond ever stronger’ and ‘Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man’.

In the first crate of paintings going to Holland you’ll find a few lithographs and that engraving after Rembrandt. The two lithographs after Bonington will no doubt be to your liking. At the same time I’m sending a couple of photos for Pa of pictures by Jules Breton and Corot; I’ll write ‘for Helvoirt’ on the back.

I’ve never heard of the painter Pynas you write about; I’m eager to see the painting in question. Nor do I know that lithograph after Diaz, ‘A monk’.

Last Sunday I was in the Louvre (on Sunday I often go either there or to the Luxembourg); I wish you could see the Van Ostade, his own family, himself, his wife and, I believe, 8 children, all in black, the wife and girls with white caps and neckerchiefs in a stately old Dutch room with a large fireplace, oak wainscoting and ceiling and whitewashed walls with paintings in black frames. In the corner of the room a large bed with blue curtains and blanket. Rembrandt’s ‘Supper at Emmaus’, of which I wrote, has been engraved, Messrs G&Co. will publish the engraving in the autumn. Do you ever visit Borchers? It seems to me that his mother is a distinguished lady. Go out often, if you can, I mean of course to visit Caroline van Stockum, the Carbentuses, Haanebeeks, Borchers &c.; not to Kraft’s or Marda’s, you understand! Or it would have to be because you couldn’t do otherwise, just once or twice can do no harm.

How are things at the gallery? I know all about how it can be sometimes, but anyway, do whatever your hand finds to do.

And I wish you the very best, and write again soon. Ever,

Your loving brother
Vincent

Herewith a note for Borchers. Regards to everyone at the Rooses’ and to all who ask after me. B. tells me that Weehuizen died, I didn’t know, were you there?

Between August 16 and September 1, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]


My dear Theo,

Thanks for your last letter and for the poem by Rückert.

On Sunday I went again to Mr Bersier, his sermon was based on the text ‘It is not lawful for thee’, he concluded with ‘Happy are they for whom life has all its thorns’.

Here are some words which I know Uncle Vincent is very fond of:

‘Rejoice, young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgement. Remove sorrow from thy heart, and put away evil from thy flesh: for childhood and youth are vanity.

Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh,  when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them.’ Yet I find even more beautiful:

‘Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.’ And ‘Thy will be done’ and ‘Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil’.

Herewith a note for Mr Tersteeg, asking him if he would frame 2 engravings, ‘Good Friday’ and ‘St Augustine’, which you’ll find in the next crate. And will you please be so kind as to send them to Helvoirt around 10 Sept. I’d really like them to be from both of us, so that you pay 2.50 guilders towards the frames. I told Mr Tersteeg that you’d write and tell me what they cost and then I’d send him the money. You can give me the 2.50 guilders when we see each other. That probably won’t be before Christmas; I believe it’s better not to ask for any time off before then. This evening I’m going to dine with Mr Hamman. Adieu, write again soon, and believe me


Your loving brother

Vincent

August 13, 1875

Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 13 August 1875

My dear Theo,

I had wanted to write to you earlier. I’m glad that Pa has accepted the call to Etten; under the circumstances I also think it good that Willemien is going along with Anna. I’d also have liked to be with all of you that Sunday at Helvoirt; have I already told you that I was with Soek and his family at Ville-d’Avray that day? I was surprised to find 3 paintings by Corot in the church there.

On Sunday last and Sunday a fortnight ago I went to Mr Mercier’s church and heard him speak on ‘all things work together for good to them that love God’ (in Dutch it says ‘for those who love God all things will work together for good’) and on ‘He created man in his own image’, it was glorious and grand. You should also go to church every Sunday if you can, even if it isn’t so very beautiful;  do that, you won’t regret it. Have you ever been to hear the Rev. Zubli?

In the list of what I have hanging in my room I forgot:


N. Maes The nativity
Hamon ‘If I were sombre winter’
Ed. Frère The seamstresses
ditto A cooper
Français Last fine day
Ruipérez The imitation of Jesus Christ
Bosboom Cantabimus and psallemus


I’m doing my best to find another engraving of ‘Rembrandt, Reading the Bible’ for you, perhaps I’ll be sending it to you in the first crate of paintings. Have I sent you a lithograph of Troyon, Morning effect? Français, Last fine days?

If not, write and tell me; I have two of each. And now, I wish you well, do right and don’t look back, as much as you can, and believe me ever

Your loving brother
Vincent

Please give my regards to Mr and Mrs Tersteeg and Mauve, also my regards to the Van Stockums, Haanebeeks, Aunt Fie, Rooses, &c. What do you think about our Anna?

July 24, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 24 July 1875

My dear Theo,

A couple of days ago we got a painting by De Nittis, a view of London on a rainy day, Westminster Bridge and the Houses of Parliament. I crossed Westminster Bridge every morning and evening and know what it looks like when the sun’s setting behind Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament, and what it’s like early in the morning, and in the winter with snow and fog.

When I saw this painting I felt how much I love London.

Yet I believe it’s good for me to be away from it. This in answer to your question. I certainly don’t think that you’ll be going to London.

Thanks for ‘Aus der Jugendzeit’ and ‘Um Mitternacht’ by Rückert. It’s poignantly beautiful; the latter made me think of ‘La nuit de Décembre’ by Musset. I wish I could send it to you, but don’t have it.

Yesterday we sent a crate to The Hague, what I had promised you was in it.

I hear that Anna and Lies are at home; I’d like to see them again. I wish you the very best, and write again soon. With a handshake

Your loving brother
Vincent

July 15, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 15 July 1875

My dear Theo,

Uncle Vincent was here again, we were together quite a lot and talked about one thing and another. I asked him whether he thought there would be an opportunity to get you here, into the Paris branch. At first he wouldn’t hear of it, and said it was much better that you stay in The Hague; but I kept insisting, and you can be sure that he’ll bear it in mind.


When he comes to The Hague he’ll probably talk to you; stay calm and let him have his say; it won’t do you any harm, and later on you’ll probably need him now and again. You shouldn’t talk about me if it’s not the right moment.


He’s terribly clever, when I was here last winter one of the things he said to me was ‘perhaps I know nothing of supernatural things, but of natural things I know everything’. I’m not sure whether those were his exact words, but that was the gist of it.


I also want to tell you that one of his favourite paintings is ‘Lost illusions’ by Gleyre.


Sainte-Beuve said, ‘There is in most men a poet who died young, whom the man survived’ and Musset, ‘know that in us there is often a sleeping poet, ever young and alive’. I believe that the former is true of Uncle Vincent. So you know who it is you’re dealing with, and so be warned.


Don’t hesitate to ask him openly to have you sent here or to London.


I thank you for your letter of this morning, and for the verse by Rückert. Do you have his poems? I’d like to know more of them. When there’s an opportunity I’ll send you a French Bible and L’imitation de Jesus Christ. This was probably the favourite book of that woman whom P. de Champaigne painted; in the Louvre there’s a portrait, also by P. de C., of her daughter, a nun; she has L’imitation lying on a chair next to her.


Pa once wrote to me: ‘you know that the same lips that uttered “be harmless as doves” also immediately added “and wise as serpents”’. You should bear that in mind as well, and believe me to be ever

Your loving brother
Vincent

Do you have the photos of the Meissoniers in the gallery? Look at them often; he painted men. You may well know The smoker at the window and The young man having lunch.

July 6, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 6 July 1875

My dear Theo,

Thanks for writing, yes, old boy, I thought so. You must write and tell me sometime how your English is, have you done anything about it? If not, it’s not such a great disaster.
 

 I’ve rented a small room in Montmartre which you’d like; it’s small, but overlooks a little garden full of ivy and Virginia creeper.
 

 I want to tell you which prints I have on the wall.


Ruisdael The bush
ditto Bleaching fields
Rembrandt Reading the Bible (a large, old Dutch room, (in the evening, a candle on the table) in which a young mother sits beside her child’s cradle reading the Bible; an old woman listens, it’s something that recalls: Verily I say unto you, ‘for where 2 or 3 are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them’, it’s an old copper engraving, as large as ‘The bush’, superb).
P. de Champaigne Portrait of a lady


Corot Evening
ditto ditto
Bodmer Fontainebleau
Bonington A road
Troyon Morning
Jules Dupré Evening (resting place)
Maris Washerwoman
ditto A baptism
Millet The four times of the day
(woodcuts, 4 prints)
Van der Maaten Funeral in the cornfield
Daubigny Dawn (cock crowing)
Charlet Hospitality. Farmhouse surrounded by fir trees, winter scene with snow. A peasant and a soldier before a door.
Ed. Frère Seamstresses
ditto A cooper


Well, old boy, keep well, you know it, longsuffering and meek, as much as possible. Let us remain good friends.
 

Adieu

Vincent

June 29, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 29 June 1875

My dear Theo,

I’d rather that you were out of The Hague. Don’t you sometimes long for that as well? Write and tell me, yes or no?

I’m staying here for the time being, and will probably not go to Holland before the autumn.

In the first crate going to The Hague you’ll find a package for Helvoirt. Please send it on after looking at what’s inside. There are a few lithographs &c. which I’d like to see in Pa’s study with the ‘Funeral in the cornfield’ by Van der Maaten. Anker’s painting of ‘An old Huguenot’, a photo of which is in the package in question, I sold to Uncle Vincent, who was here a couple of days ago. He also bought a beautiful painting by Jacque, horses pulling a plough in the rain.

There was a sale here of drawings by Millet, I don’t know whether I’ve already written to you about it. When I entered the room in Hôtel Drouot where they were exhibited, I felt something akin to: Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground. You know that Millet lived in Gréville. Well, I don’t know whether it was Gréville or Granville where the man I once told you about died. At any rate, I looked at Millet’s drawings of ‘The cliffs at Gréville’ with redoubled attention. A painting of his, ‘The church of Gréville’, is now in the Luxembourg.

Adieu

Vincent

June 19, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 19 June 1875

My dear Theo,

I had hoped to see her again before she died, and that didn’t happen. Man proposes and God disposes.


In the first crate we send to Holland you’ll find a photo of that painting by P. de Champaigne, of which Michelet said, ‘she stayed with me for 30 years, coming back to me incessantly’, also an etching by Daubigny after Ruisdael’s ‘Bush’, a lithograph after Corot’s ‘Sunset’, a lithograph by Bodmer, ‘Fontainebleau in the autumn’ and two Jacque etchings.


Adieu

Vincent

I don’t know how long I’ll be staying here, but before I return to London I hope to go to Helvoirt. I hope you’ll be there too. I’ll pay for the journey.

You certainly won’t forget her and her death, but keep it to yourself. This is one of those things that, little by little, makes us ‘sorrowful, yet always rejoicing’; and that we must become.

May 31, 1875

[Letterhead: Goupil Paris]

Paris, 31 May 1875

My dear Theo,

Thanks for your letter of this morning.

Yesterday I saw the Corot exhibition. It included a painting of the ‘Mount of Olives’; I’m glad he painted that.

On the right, a group of olive trees, dark against the darkening blue sky; in the background hills covered with shrubs and a couple of tall trees, above them the evening star.

There are 3 Corots at the Salon, very beautiful, the most beautiful one, painted shortly before his death, ‘Women cutting wood’, will probably appear as a woodcut in L’Illustration or Le Monde Illustré.

I’ve also seen the Louvre and the Luxembourg, as you can imagine.

The Ruisdaels in the Louvre are magnificent, especially ‘The bush’, ‘The breakwater’ and ‘The ray of sunlight’.


I wish you could see the small Rembrandts there, the ‘Supper at Emmaus’, and two pendants, ‘The philosophers’.

I recently saw Jules Breton with his wife and two daughters. Physically he reminded me of J. Maris, though he has dark hair.

When I have the chance I’ll send you a book of his, ‘Les champs et la mer’, which contains all his poems.

He has a beautiful painting at the Salon, ‘The feast of St John’, peasant girls dancing on a summer evening round the St John’s bonfire, in the background the village with its church and the moon above it.

Dance, young maidens, dance,
As you sing your songs of love!
Tomorrow, at break of day,
You’ll go, hastening to ply your sickles.

There are now 3 paintings by him in the Luxembourg. ‘Procession through a cornfield’, ‘Women gleaning’ and ‘Alone’.


Adieu

Vincent

May 8, 1875

London, 8 May 1875

My dear Theo,

Thanks for your last letter. How is the patient? I’d already heard from Pa that she was ill, but I didn’t know that it was as bad as you said.

Write to me about this soon, if you will. Yes, old boy, ‘what shall we say?’

C.M. and Mr Tersteeg were here and left again last Saturday. In my opinion they went a little too often to the Crystal Palace and other places that didn’t concern them. It seems to me they could also have come and seen where I lived.

You ask about Anna, but we’ll discuss that another time.

I hope and believe that I’m not what many think me to be at present, we’ll see, we have to give it time; people will probably say the same about you in a couple of years; at least if you continue to be what you are: my brother in two senses of the word.

Regards, and my regards to the patient. With a handshake,

Vincent



To act on the world one must die to oneself. The people that makes itself the missionary of a religious thought has no other country henceforth than that thought.

Man is not placed on the earth merely to be happy; nor is he placed here merely to be honest, he is here to accomplish great things through society, to arrive at nobleness, and to outgrow the vulgarity in which the existence of almost all individuals drags on.

Renan

Between 13 and 18 April, 1875

London, April 1875



My dear Theo,

I’m sending you herewith a small drawing. I made it last Sunday, the morning a daughter (13 years old) of my landlady died.

It’s a view of Streatham Common, a large, grass-covered area with oak trees and broom.

It had rained in the night, and the ground was soggy here and there and the young spring grass fresh and green.

As you see, it’s scribbled on the title page of the ‘Poesies d’Edmond Roche’.

There are beautiful ones among them, serious and sad, including one that begins and ends

Sad and alone, I climbed the sad, bare dune,
Where the sea keens its ceaseless moaning plaint,
The dune where dies the wide unfurling wave,
Drab path that winds and winds upon itself again.

and another, ‘Calais’

How I love to see you once again, o my native town,
Dear sea nymph seated at the waters’ edge!
I love the soaring spire of your bell-tower,
Lovely in its boldness and its elegance,
Its fretted cupola, through which we see the sky.


You’ll probably be curious about what goes with the etching by Corot and so I’ve copied that out as well.

The pond
to Corot

We watched the pond, its water leaden, drear,
Form crease upon crease slowly in the breeze,
And the mud, enfolding in a softened line
The prow and black sides of a boat aground;

The woods’ high crown, leaf by fallen leaf,
Lay strewn upon the ground; the sky was filled with mist;
We two, in whispers, almost furtively,
Were sadly saying, ‘Summer’s past:

These slopes have lost their accustomed grace;
No more green foliage, no more golden light
Trembling in the trembling water or touching tops with gold!’

This idyll may yet come before our eyes again,
If you would have it so: are you not the master
Who re-created it after its first creator’s hand?

Ville-d’Avray


Warm regards, and I wish you the best. Adieu

Vincent

April 6, 1875

[Letterhead: Strand London]


6 April 1875


My dear Theo,

Thanks for your letter. Didn’t I copy out Meeresstille by Heine in your little book?1 Some time ago I saw a painting by Thijs Maris that reminded me of it.

An old Dutch town with rows of brownish red houses with step-gables and tall flights of steps, grey roofs, and white or yellow doors, window-frames and cornices; canals with ships and a large white drawbridge, a barge with a man at the tiller going under it. The little house of the bridge-keeper, whom one sees through the window, sitting in his office.

Some distance away a stone bridge over the canal, with people and a cart with white horses crossing it.

And everywhere movement, a porter with his wheelbarrow, a man leaning against the railing, gazing into the water, women in black with white caps.

The foreground a quay with paving-stones and a black railing.

In the distance a tower rises above the houses.

A greyish white sky over everything.

It’s a small painting, upright. The subject is nearly the same as the large J. Maris, Amsterdam, which you perhaps know, only this is talent and the other is genius.

I’ve again copied out one or two things for you, which I’ll send when I get the chance.

Think of ‘The cliff’ and whether you know of anything else. That Victor Hugo piece is beautiful.


Adieu, give my regards to Pa if you see him.


Vincent

March 6, 1875

[Letterhead: Strand London]


6 March 1875


My dear Theo,

Bravo Theo – You well understood that girl in Adam Bede. That landscape – in which a dull yellow sandy road leads over the hill to the village, with mud or whitewashed huts with green, moss-covered roofs and here and there a blackthorn, on either side brown heather and bunt and a grey sky, with a narrow white strip above the horizon – is by Michel. Except that the atmosphere is purer and nobler than in Michel.

Today I’m enclosing that little book for you in the crate to be sent. Also Jesus by Renan and Jeanne d’Arc by Michelet, and also a portrait of Corot, from the London News, which I also have hanging in my room.

I don’t believe there’s any chance that you’ll be transferred to the London branch for the time being.
Don’t feel bad because you’re not finding things difficult; I have it easy, too. I believe that life is quite long, and the time when ‘another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not’ will come of its own accord. Adieu, give my regards to everyone I know.

With a handshake,


Vincent