In 1973, Hulsker was the first to focus attention on ‘Van Gogh as a writer’.4040. See Hulsker 1993-2, pp. 33-40. His aim was to show that, on the evidence of the prose of the letters, that Van Gogh could have been a writer if he had not become an artist, partly in the light of his own words that if he did not succeed as a painter ‘I would either go into the business or I would write’ (710). Hulsker rightly concluded from this that Van Gogh was aware that he was skilled with the pen, but it is unlikely that he was thinking of such strictly literary forms as novels, short stories or poems, for as far as it is known he never tried to write any that would have given him sufficient confidence to try to make a living from his pen (whether or not those attempts survived).4141. There is probably one exception, and that is the ‘letter’ to Jules Breton of 1875 (see RM5). If it can be attributed to Van Gogh it can be seen as an attempt at a literary composition (see Van der Veen 2007, pp. 19-20), but on its own it is an inadequate basis for asserting that Van Gogh felt that he had a chance as a literary writer 13 years later. It seems more probable that he meant that he could devote himself to art criticism, just as ‘go into the business’ must refer to the art trade – the only ‘business’ of which he could claim to have the some understanding.

In his article, Hulsker first characterized the ‘letter style’, which he acknowledged was spontaneous but did not find well thought-out or harmonious. In exoneration he said that Van Gogh’s had ‘thrown [his thoughts] down on the paper in great haste and with inexplicable speed. ... The speed with which he wrote (it was generally done at the end of a tiring day filled with drawing and painting) often made him keep going off at a tangent. His fiery and headstrong character, which did not readily allow him to abandon an idea, was the reason why he so often lapsed into repetition and sometimes returned to an idea ad nauseam’.4242. Hulsker 1993-2, p. 34. Now there are indications that Van Gogh sometimes wrote in haste, sometimes late at night, sometimes in a break between drawing or painting sessions, but the basis for Hulsker’s ‘inexplicable speed’ is not clear, and it is going a little too far to associate Van Gogh’s general letter-writing style with that. Too many of the letters are long, too considered in their reasoning and too regular in their handwriting. The many later additions and modifications point to some afterthought and care. There are, in other words, too few indications to picture Van Gogh at his desk, as is so often done in the movies, as a harried, obsessed man almost unintentionally slapping things down on paper (or on canvas, for that matter). It is true, though, that he could be stubborn, and Hulsker cites the striking example of the episode in Drenthe, when Vincent wrote his brother letter after letter trying to persuade him to become a painter.

Van Gogh could write very expressively and had a powerful ability to evoke a scene or landscape with well-chosen words. It is tempting to attribute that to his painter’s eye, but it was already patently evident in letters written before 1880. This is borne out by the brief description of a walk near Ramsgate,4343. See letter 79. the slightly longer one of a journey from Oudenbosch to Zundert in April 1877,4444. See letter 110. the impression of the naval dockyard in Amsterdam during a thunderstorm on an early June morning,4545. Letter 120. and almost the entire letter of April 1879 from Wasmes.4646. Letter 151. Nature and atmosphere play an important part in such passages, as does the humble existence of simple folk. Yet Van Gogh used normal, everyday language. He was not averse to some sentimentality, but there is no literary lyricism in his writing style.

The letter of 2 November 1883 in which Van Gogh describes his journey on a cart through the Drenthe countryside is often cited as a high point of his talents as a correspondent or prose writer.4747. Letter 402. His pen was indeed inspired on that occasion, and his genuine enthusiasm for what he saw and experienced is palpable from his words and sentences. He describes a day starting in the early morning, and in a literary way superbly resolves the arc of suspense in the late evening. This was not Van Gogh’s usual style, however. He was studiously doing his best, and he succeeded. His underlying idea was to entice Theo with the idyllic beauty of the countryside and the fulfilment it could give an artist. This letter was part of the offensive mentioned above to persuade Theo to give up his fine career with Goupil & Cie and travel to Drenthe to become a painter himself. The brothers would form a team and do battle for the good cause as Edmond and Jules de Goncourt, Jules and Emile Breton, Guillaume and Félix Régamey, and the Maris brothers had done. Of course this ran counter to any sense of reality or reason. It is clear from Vincent’s letters that Theo dismissed the idea and even, exceptionally, lost his patience, but Vincent stuck to it like a terrier. He used his most literary pen in that letter in order to lend force to his argument, and that is the background to the remark at the end, where he says that such a beautiful day was worth as much as an exhibition of masterpieces that Theo had written about.4848. A similarly deliberate choice of prose that tends towards the literary is found in his first letter from Ramsgate, which was addressed to his parents (letter 76).

The deployment of literature in the letters is an excellent illustration of how Van Gogh gained access to his addressee, as it were, by seeking out his or her frame of reference. This is less noticeable in the letters to Theo because the brothers had pretty much the same taste, and Vincent could assume that Theo was interested in the subjects he broached.5050. It is noteworthy, incidentally, that literature only becomes a topic of conversation in the letters in July 1874, two years after the correspondence opens. Perhaps Theo had not signalled that he shared Vincent’s interest in it, just as art only comes into the picture when Theo had followed his brother into the art trade, or perhaps he just had different tastes. As soon as Theo announced that he liked Michelet, literature became a recurring theme (26, 27). But very early on, in the letters to Caroline and Willem van Stockum-Haanebeek, literature, and specifically poetry, is a way of making a point. In the first surviving letter to them Van Gogh copied out a long romantic poem by the Flemish poet Jan van Beers. He wrote that it appealed to him because the country life it described was ‘Brabant to a T’, and the fact that it is about an artist must have given it added charm for him. It has the flowery style and rather sentimental tone of literature mentioned directly or indirectly in other letters to the Van Stockums: Longfellow, Michelet, Brentano. The rather lengthy passage about Keats in the letter of 7 August 1873 and the copied poems ‘The eve of Saint Mark’ and ‘To autumn’ would also have been intended to impress this young Hague couple. Keats was not very widely known in the Netherlands at the time, as Van Gogh himself pointed out.

There are also examples of this device in late letters. In those to Willemien he wrote more about literature than to any other correspondent in that period. The reason was not just that he preferred to share his literary interests or knowledge with her but also because Willemien had literary aspirations. Her brother, who was himself an artist and had more experience of life, thus had the opportunity for an exchange of ideas that ran deeper than dutiful family correspondence. He writes about novels and poetry in almost all his letters to her, and is constantly making suggestions as to what she should read. It is also no coincidence that he drew a letter sketch for her of his painting Woman reading a novel, a work he did not actually like very much (720).

One of the few surviving letters to his mother also demonstrates this trick of adopting another frame of reference. Literature could hardly have been a shared interest of theirs, but when he thought that Mrs Van Gogh was getting too worried about Theo’s state of health he tried to divert her by mentioning a story that had nothing at all to do with his own literary interests and everything with his mother’s: an obscure provincial story by a now forgotten Dutch writer.5151. See letter 788. This demonstrated not only his good memory but also his ability to choose his examples tactically.

For Emile Bernard, with whom he had shared a taste of bohemian life in Paris, he adopted a bluff tone and no-nonsense language that are not found elsewhere in the correspondence. The friends were on familiar territory when speaking about prostitutes and visits to the brothel, the relationship between artistry and sex, and so on. Van Gogh had outspoken ideas on these subjects that were related to the health, physical care and food that an artist needed. These issues are one of the main threads in the correspondence with Bernard. He had been brought up in a Dutch clergyman’s tradition and tended by nature to argue and moralize, and the difference in age between them encouraged him even more to play the part of the older and wiser ‘brother’, the more experienced adviser and guide. At the same time, he admired the talent of the young Bernard, who had a nose for new developments and openings in art.

Almost the very opposite crops up from time to time in the letters to Paul Gauguin, the brother-in-arms in the struggle for the new art of whom he had been in awe for a long time, because he regarded him as the leader of the group. That respect reverberates in the letters, which are relatively short and in which he used the formal ‘vous’.5353. Van Gogh only uses the intimate ‘tu’ to Gauguin in one letter (616), but that was a draft, and it is not known if another version was ever sent off. It is inconceivable that he would have said to anyone else what he meekly wrote to Gauguin: ‘I find my artistic ideas extremely commonplace in comparison with yours’ (695).

When writing to the mayor of Nuenen he adopted an official tone that fitted his formal request for a passport.5454. See letter 573. And when he wrote to Mr and Mrs Ginoux, who ran the Café de la Gare in Arles, he tried out a homely, friendly tone, as if not to disturb the small world of these older friends. In essence he did the same towards his mother in his letters from France. He only spoke of his own situation and his work in general terms, and when he was sick he tried to play it down and put her mind at ease. He broached a new subject each time, or asked after other members of the family. With Anton Kerssemakers he was a teacher with his pupil – friendly, but firm and speaking with authority.5555. Letters 478, 491, 498, 511 and 518.

Van Gogh had recourse to elaborate metaphors in his late letters as well. They could sometimes take on the air of a parable, which was undoubtedly a leftover from his early reading of and admiration for the words of Jesus.5959. Cf. ‘This great artist – Christ – although he disdained writing books on ideas and feelings – was certainly much less disdainful of the spoken word – THE PARABLE above all. (What a sower, what a harvest, what a fig tree, &c.)’ (632). One example of this is the comparison of people’s inability to imagine life after death with the incomprehension of a salad grub that will one day change into a May bug, in other words begin a new life.6060. Letter 579. A second example of such a metaphysically charged metaphor in a letter to Theo of early July 1888 is often quoted. ‘Painters – to speak only of them – being dead and buried, speak to a following generation or to several following generations through their works. Is that all, or is there more, even? In the life of the painter, death may perhaps not be the most difficult thing. For myself, I declare I don't know anything about it. But the sight of the stars always makes me dream in as simple a way as the black spots on the map, representing towns and villages, make me dream. Why, I say to myself, should the spots of light in the firmament be less accessible to us than the black spots on the map of France. Just as we take the train to go to Tarascon or Rouen, we take death to go to a star. What’s certainly true in this argument is that while alive, we cannot go to a star, any more than once dead we’d be able to take the train. So it seems to me not impossible that cholera, the stone, consumption, cancer are celestial means of locomotion, just as steamboats, omnibuses and the railway are terrestrial ones. To die peacefully of old age would be to go there on foot’ (638). In the case of literary-sounding passages like this, incidentally, it is quite possible that Van Gogh was deliberately or subconsciously echoing books he had read.

Van Gogh’s metaphors are not always as deep as the last example, but sprinkled throughout the correspondence there is a plethora of striking images and tropes. Yet in general it is precisely the direct and unadorned nature of his style that makes the letters accessible and invites empathy. He may have taken a romantic or idealistic view of reality from time to time, and had a turbulent spirit, but in his use of language and choice of words he was remarkably matter-of-fact.6161. Cf. Hulsker 1993-2, p. 35: ‘The main distinguishing feature of Van Gogh’s prose is the directness with which it reflects such a sensitive heart and a rich life of the mind; it is romantic rather than naturalistic, for when it is a matter of reproducing an observed reality it is always coloured by his emotions and a deep awareness of the symbolic value of that reality’. This is true, but it concerns Van Gogh’s experience of reality rather than his use of language. At the same time, he did not shy away from genuine sentiment when dealing with inner feelings, and it is that combination that often makes his utterances so pithy. A phrase like ‘Since I love “in reality”’ (181) is terse but charged with meaning. He could express sad feelings or observations in the most everyday words, which makes what he is saying all the more tragic. ‘It appears that I pick up filthy things and eat them, although my memories of these bad moments are vague, and it appears to me that there’s something shady about it, still for the same reason that they have I don’t know what prejudice against painters here. I no longer see any possibility for courage or good hope, but anyway it wasn’t yesterday that we found out that this profession isn’t a happy one’ (797).

One aspect that certainly plays a role in the effect that the letters have on the reader is of a very different order but should not go unmentioned, although it is more psychological in nature and is felt rather than being demonstrable. It is the human side of Van Gogh, which he often reveals very succinctly through his direct, unadorned way of writing. On the one hand he can be full of compassion for others and take genuine pity on poor or unfortunate souls. Nowhere is there an indication that he advocated social change. It was a simple fact that some people had hard lives, and he was very sorry for them. On the other hand, he revealed his own vulnerability on many occasions by expressing ideals, by getting into arguments, and by sharing with the reader his outrage, his disappointment, his melancholy, and later his mental illness. In the isolation that he inevitably created through his difficult character, everything became a battle with the world around him and with himself. It is true that his tenacity can cause irritation as much as respect, but there is a tragic element to it that is disarming. It is Van Gogh’s talent as a writer that makes that possible.

Georges-Louis Leclerc de Buffon’s saying, ‘the style is the man himself’, is certainly true when it comes to Van Gogh. Lines from the letters chosen at random immediately reveal his pen and his spirit. His strong, sometimes stubborn personality manifests itself to the reader in every passage. The letters and the man are one. It was said above that Van Gogh was aware of his verbal talent. One can wonder whether he took it into account, or even intended that his letters be published one day. We do not believe that he did. Admittedly, he advised Theo to keep letters from artists (589), but he meant artists’ letters in the true sense of the work: an artistic exchange of ideas. It is possible that he felt that his own letters to Gauguin and Bernard fitted in that category to a certain extent, and he knew that his friends showed each other the letters he had written to them. He himself said that he was keeping the letters he received from Bernard.6363. See letter 682. Van Gogh’s weakness for the letter as a source of inspiration is also clear from his interest in literature that brought an artist closer to him, such as biographies with extensive quotations from letters, diaries and accounts of studios.6464. Such as Alfred Sensier’s La vie et l’oeuvre de J.-F. Millet, Silvestres Eugène Delacroix. Documents nouveaux, and Jean-François Gigoux’s Causeries sur les artistes de mon temps. On a more general level, the genre of first-person accounts was becoming very popular at the time. But nowhere is there any indication that he had the ambition, even secretly, for his letters to make a contribution to the genre. The reverse is more probably the case. All that counted was art, and art had to speak for itself. Even if his work was the cause of interest in himself, as in Albert Aurier’s review in the Mercure de France in January 1890, he scuttled back into his shell as fast as he could.6565. See letters 850, 853 and 863, among others. The publication of his letters would have been incompatible with that.