Relevant paintings: "Portrait of Milliet, Second Lieutenant of the Zouaves," Vincent van Gogh [Enlarge]
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From Les Lettres Françaises
By Pierre Weiller, 24 - 31 March 1955
Paul-Eugéne Milliet was a 2nd
lieutenant of the 3rd Zouave Regiment of Light
Infantry. He died during the 2nd World War. These
memoirs were recorded almost 20 years before they were
published.
Several times, at his home, or at mine, while drinking a cup
of coffee chased by a large glassful of rum, he insisted on the
privilege, the necessity and on the pre-eminence of drawing.
Although he was cultured to a certain degree, that he was
interested in all that is beautiful, I remained surprised by
the clarity of the interest that he possessed on an art which
few appreciate. One day when he was particularly resolute, he
confessed to me that he had, in his youth, toyed with the
pencil, pen and charcoal. “As an amateur, dear friend, as
an amateur, because I have always been a soldier, a soldier, a
combatant, and a Blédard 1. I told you
that I had not often had the opportunity to sketch. And also I
have had, at one point in my life, a drawing teacher, one whose
name is great, and who gave me some lessons during a leave,
between two campaigns.”
And he told me his name, as always half obscured by grunts
and humming of a disputable taste but incontestably
picturesque. I vaguely understood a surname resembling
“vogue,” but I did not ask him to elucidate. This
was only later that I realized that “vogue” could,
possibly, mean Van Gogh.
But it appeared so improbable that I waited for a while
before I asked him precisely.
During a later meeting, I posed the question.
- But yes, replied the colonel, certainly it was Van Gogh
who was my drawing teacher. No worse than any other, elsewhere,
and certainly a better designer that all the eccentrics that
labour for you. But mark you, if he was my drawing teacher, I
would never have taken him as my painting teacher.
- But in what period did you know him?
- In 1888.
- And where was this?
- In Arles where he stayed after having left Paris. Myself,
I took some rest in this city, between two campaigns.
-Could you give me some details on him, on his behavior?
- Certainly. He was a curious fellow. A bit of a hot-head,
like a Blédard. But he wasn't one: no inclination
for military art, none. An artist?
Obviously, an artist, and he drew in an admirable manner. A
charming companion, when he decided, which took him several
days. We often took wonderful walks in the vicinity of Arles
and, in the countryside, we sketched. Sometimes, he took along
a canvas and began to daub on it. Doing that, he didn't do
well. This boy, who had the taste and the talent for drawing,
became abnormal as soon as he touched a brush.
- You consider that he drew well. Nevertheless you are not
going to make me believe that he painted as an apprentice or an
amateur.
- He painted like a headquarters officer.
- My dear colonel, all art lovers and all art critics, all
connoisseurs recognize that Van Gogh…
- Talents that he didn't have. I am in a better position
that most to know. I have seen him work. I have benefited from
his teaching. I have even given him lessons. Lessons in
drawing, of course, because we went out especially in the
countryside, to each make a sketch of the same landscape and to
mutually correct ourselves, independently. Ah well, Van Gogh
sometimes found my remarks justified. Sometimes, not always.
And only concerning drawings. Because, as soon as he started to
paint, or I withdrew, or I refused to give a good opinion, we
argued.
- But what do you criticize of Van Gogh's works?
- What I criticize is that they are not drawn. He painted
too large, he gave no attention to details, he did not draw,
what… And meanwhile, when he wanted to, he knew how to
draw, I tell you. He replaced the drawing by colours:
meaningless, because the colour completes the drawing, but can
not hold it in place. The drawing is the support of the colour.
And then his colour…extreme, abnormal, inadmissible. The
tones too hot, too violent, not capable of self control. You
see, my friend, the painter has to make a painting with love,
with passion. A canvas has to be “caressed”: Van
Gogh, he raped it. At times, he was a real brute, a
“tough”, as they say.
- His character was choleric therefore?
- Yes and no. Rather agreeable, on the whole, but very
changeable. Very nervous. Furious, when I voiced a criticism on
a painting. But that did not last and we always finished up
reconciled.
- If I understand you properly, he was very nervous, but too
sensitive.
- An exaggerated sensitivity. Reactions of a woman,
sometimes. The conscience to be a great artist. He had
faith. Faith in his talent, a faith a little blind. Proud.
His health did not appear very strong to me. But, all in all, a
good comrade, not a bad sort.
- Aside from his nervousness, did you have the impression
that he was sick?
- He complained from time to time of his stomach. That is
all.
- What did he paint during the period where you were with
him?
- A little of everything. Landscapes especially, still
lifes, especially of flowers. Some portraits, including
mine.
- How did Van Gogh do your portrait? Where is it
located?
- I am not sure. Someone told me that it was in a museum. In
Holland, I believe.
- And how were you painted?
- In the uniform of an officer of the Zouaves. I had come
back from Tonkin, don't forget.
- Do you remember posing?
- I should say. But it hardly amused me. This is not in my
character, you understand. As much as I remember, it did not
last very long. All in all, it wasn't planned out, therefore it
took little time, relatively, to the artist.
- Was the portrait much of a likeness?
- Very. Very much a likeness. But with a deep blue uniform,
not very well done.
Such were, faithfully related, some thoughts that my friend
Milliet gave me on his relationship with Van Gogh. How odd that
he met this artist, in full possession of his talent, when this
young officer came to the Midi to take some rest after a hard
campaign! What a coincidence that they had the same love of
drawing, these two men so different from each other! And how
can you not excuse, on the part of the brave colonel, the
severe criticism that he spoke of a painting that he could not
understand, and that others of his time especially, little
approved... His brave policeman father had given him only a
modest artistic education and I am sure that, as a military
child, he received little understanding on the art of painting.
Above all, the reflections of my friend, intransigent as they
were, have no other value that they were sincere. And the glory
of Van Gogh is not lost…
-
Blédard. A nickname used for a French
desert soldier, in the same way as “Tommy” or
“Doughboy.”
At this time, Vincent was 102 year oldSource: Pierre Weiller. Letter to n/a. Written 31 March 1955 in Paris. Translated by Robert Harrison, edited by Robert Harrison, number htm. URL: https://www.webexhibits.org/vangogh/letter/18/etc-Milliet-Memoir.htm.
This letter may be freely used, in accordance with the terms of this site.
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