Letter from Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh (c. 5 April 1885) ... be freer in the matter of receiving guests, etc. However, I
still very much deplore the incident with Anna which decided me
on this. What she told you does not alter anything of what she
reproached me with, however absurd these reproaches were, as
well as her unfounded suspicions with regard to certain things
of the future. She has not told me she took them back. Well,
you understand that I simply shrug my shoulders at such things,
and for that matter, more and more I let everybody think of me
what they like, and say of me, and do, under certain
circumstances, too.
But consequently I have no choice. After such a beginning
one is forced to take measures in order to avoid such
occurrences in the future. So I am firmly resolved.
Probably Mother will go to Leyden next year. Then I shall be
the only one of us left in Brabant.
Letter from Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh (c. 11 May 1885) ... once in a while, is
sufficient. I think them
- I know, contrary to your opinion and
contrary to theirs - I think those at home very, very far from
sincere, and moreover, seeing that there are lots of other
things I object to on what I consider sufficient grounds, I
look upon Father's death and the inheritance as a matter I can
withdraw from in all tranquillity, as I foresee that the
character of the three sisters (all three of them) will not
improve with time, but on the contrary, will get worse, and at
any rate, just now it is utterly unsympathetic to me. Do you
remember how sympathetically I wrote about Wil during Mother's
illness? Well, it was just a short-lived freak - and it is
frozen up again. Have you read L'évangeliste by Daudet?
If so, you will find in it better words to express what I mean
than mine.
I see quite well that you do your best to conciliate us,
but, my dear fellow, after all I wish them no harm, do I? - and
likewise I do them no harm....
Letter from Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh (c. 27 August 1888) ... letter and for the 50-fr. note it
contained. Certainly it is not out of the question that later
on our sister might come and live with us. It speaks well for
her taste that she likes sculpture; I was very glad to hear it.
Painting as it is now promises to become more subtle - more
like music and less like sculpture - and above all it promises
colour. If only it keeps this promise.
The sunflowers are getting on, there is a new bunch of 14
flowers on a greenish-yellow ground , so it is
exactly the same effect - but in a larger size, a 30 canvas -
as the still life with the quinces and lemons ,
which you already have - but in the sunflowers the painting is
much more simple. Do you remember that we saw a bunch of
peonies by Manet at the Hotel Drouot one day? The flowers were
pink, the leaves bright green painted in thick impasto, not
glazed like Jeannin's, standing out against a plain white
background, I think.
That was a very sound piece of work.
Letter from Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh (3 September 1888) ... tie. He gave me two sittings in one day.
Yesterday I had a letter from our sister, who has seen a
great deal. Ah, if she could marry an artist it would not be so
bad. Well, we must go on inducing her to develop her
personality rather than her artistic abilities.
I have finished L'Immortel by Daudet. I rather like the
saying of the sculptor Védrine, that to achieve fame is
something like ramming the lighted end of your cigar into your
mouth when you are smoking. But I certainly like L'Immortel
less, far less than Tartarin.
You know, it seems to me that L'Immortel is not so fine in
colour as Tartarin, because it reminds me with its mass of true
and subtle observations of the dreary pictures of Jean
Bérend which are so dry and cold. Now Tartarin is
really great, with the greatness of a masterpiece, just
like Candide.
Letter from Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh (2 May 1890) ... our sister and from Mother were
very calm. Our sister wrote extremely well and described a
landscape or a view of the town in such a way that it might
have been a page out of a modern novel. I always urge her to
occupy herself with household matters rather than artistic
things, for I know that she is already too sensitive, and at
her age she would find it difficult to develop herself
artistically. I am much afraid that she also suffers from a
thwarted artistic desire, but she is so full of vitality that
she will get over it.
I have talked to M. Peyron about the situation and I told him
that it was almost impossible for me to endure my lot here, and
that not knowing at all with any clearness what line to take, I
thought it preferable to return North.
If you think well of it and if you mention a date on
which you would expect me in Paris, I will have
myself accompanied part of the way, either to Tarascon, or to
Lyons, by someone from here. Then you can wait for
me or...