I left romantic illusions behind me
Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh, from The Hague, 20 August 1882
Lately I read part of a rather melancholy book, Letters and Diary of Gerard Bilders. He died at the age when I began. When I read that, I was not sorry that I started late. He certainly was unhappy and was often misunderstood, but at the same time I find a great weakness in him, something morbid in his character. . . . At first everything goes all right - he is with a teacher (as in a hothouse) - he makes quick progress but in Amsterdam he is almost alone, and with all his cleverness, he cannot stand it there, and comes back home to his father quite discouraged, dissatisfied, listless - he paints a little there, and then dies of consumption or of some other disease in his twenty-eighth year.
What I don't like about him is that while he paints, he complains of terrible dullness and idleness, as though it were something he couldn't do anything about; and he continues to run around with a, to him, too oppressive circle of friends, and persisting in the amusements and way of life which bore him to death. . . .
What I want to say is, Gerard Bilders's view of life was romantic, and he never got over the “illusions perdues”; for my part I think it a certain advantage that I started only when I had left romantic illusions behind me. I must make up for lost time now. I must work hard, but just when one has left the lost illusions behind, work becomes a necessity and one of the few pleasures left. And this gives a great quiet and tranquility.
Letter 227
Translation courtesy of Robert Harrison.
Back to The Way of Vincent: Making art no matter what
Lately I read part of a rather melancholy book, Letters and Diary of Gerard Bilders. He died at the age when I began. When I read that, I was not sorry that I started late. He certainly was unhappy and was often misunderstood, but at the same time I find a great weakness in him, something morbid in his character. . . . At first everything goes all right - he is with a teacher (as in a hothouse) - he makes quick progress but in Amsterdam he is almost alone, and with all his cleverness, he cannot stand it there, and comes back home to his father quite discouraged, dissatisfied, listless - he paints a little there, and then dies of consumption or of some other disease in his twenty-eighth year.
What I don't like about him is that while he paints, he complains of terrible dullness and idleness, as though it were something he couldn't do anything about; and he continues to run around with a, to him, too oppressive circle of friends, and persisting in the amusements and way of life which bore him to death. . . .
What I want to say is, Gerard Bilders's view of life was romantic, and he never got over the “illusions perdues”; for my part I think it a certain advantage that I started only when I had left romantic illusions behind me. I must make up for lost time now. I must work hard, but just when one has left the lost illusions behind, work becomes a necessity and one of the few pleasures left. And this gives a great quiet and tranquility.
Letter 227
Translation courtesy of Robert Harrison.
Back to The Way of Vincent: Making art no matter what
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