A good sermon on resignation
Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh, from The Hague, c. 11 March 1882
There is a Mauve, the large picture of the fishing smack drawn up to the dunes; it is a masterpiece.
I never heard a good sermon on resignation, nor can I imagine a good one, except that picture by Mauve and the work of Millet.
That is the resignation - the real kind, not that of the clergymen. Those nags, those poor, ill-treated old nags, black, white and brown; they are standing there, patient, submissive, willing, resigned and quiet. They have still to draw the heavy boat up the last bit of the way - the job is almost finished. Stop a moment. They are panting, they are covered with sweat, but they do not murmur, they do not protest, they do not complain, not about anything. They got over that long ago, years and years ago. They are resigned to living and working somewhat longer, but if they have to go to the knacker tomorrow, well, so be it, they are ready. I find such a mighty, deep, practical, silent philosophy in this picture - it seems to say, “Knowing how to suffer without complaining, that is the only practical thing, it is the great science, the lesson to learn, the solution of the problem of life.” I think this picture by Mauve would be one of the rare pictures before which Millet would remain standing a long time, and mutter to himself, “It has the heart of that painter.”
Letter 181
Translation courtesy of Robert Harrison.
Back to The Way of Vincent: Making art no matter what
There is a Mauve, the large picture of the fishing smack drawn up to the dunes; it is a masterpiece.
I never heard a good sermon on resignation, nor can I imagine a good one, except that picture by Mauve and the work of Millet.
That is the resignation - the real kind, not that of the clergymen. Those nags, those poor, ill-treated old nags, black, white and brown; they are standing there, patient, submissive, willing, resigned and quiet. They have still to draw the heavy boat up the last bit of the way - the job is almost finished. Stop a moment. They are panting, they are covered with sweat, but they do not murmur, they do not protest, they do not complain, not about anything. They got over that long ago, years and years ago. They are resigned to living and working somewhat longer, but if they have to go to the knacker tomorrow, well, so be it, they are ready. I find such a mighty, deep, practical, silent philosophy in this picture - it seems to say, “Knowing how to suffer without complaining, that is the only practical thing, it is the great science, the lesson to learn, the solution of the problem of life.” I think this picture by Mauve would be one of the rare pictures before which Millet would remain standing a long time, and mutter to himself, “It has the heart of that painter.”
Letter 181
Translation courtesy of Robert Harrison.
Back to The Way of Vincent: Making art no matter what
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