4. A reference to the anonymous review in
The Graphic 11 (12 June 1875), p. 571, of the third Black and White exhibition in 1875 at the Dudley Gallery in London, where nine drawings by
Léon Augustin Lhermitte were shown. We quote the whole passage here because Van Gogh comes back to it in more detail in the following letters (the numbers between parentheses are those in the original catalogue): ‘And though we should be disposed to put Léon Lhermitte at the head of all those who exhibit here for the most potent secrets of strength and command of effect in black and white, there are English designers, both of the figure and landscape, such as
Gregory and
Small, who come but little behind him in these points, and English landscape painters like Powell and Hunter, to say nothing of departed masters like George Cattermole, whose mastery of broad and strong effect does not fall below his. To such qualities in his black and white, as delicacy of draughtsmanship, exquisiteness and sweetness of effect, and refinement of expression, Lhermitte’s work makes no pretension. It assails the imagination by a rude, massive, and primitive strength akin to that which impresses us in the monuments and buildings, the life and faith, of that Brittany from which he derives most of his subjects, and in which his genius seems most at home. How eminently favourable this stern simplicity is to effect, in such materials as chalk and charcoal, we may test by noting the distinctness with which the memory retains that simple street in Dauphiné (461) – with its broadly distributed masses of black and white; those grim grey-black fortress-like houses at Landerneau (311), in which we trace the kinship of Brittany and Wales, so irresistibly do they remind us of Caernarvon; or those grave, prayerful women (259), kneeling round the rude coast-shrine (the Ker-Saint, or “holy-house”), on the naked rock that goes plumb down to the angry sea of Finisterre; or – almost more remarkable for its strong, simple grasp on the picturesque elements of the subject – that corner of a Breton market-place (194), with the satisfying harmony got out of the white caps and dark dresses of its gossiping and bargaining
commères, the deep hollows of the doorways, and the light and shadow playing on stalls and booths, and overhanging pent-house roofs; or the “Procession” (114), with the canopied host, marshalling cross, and waving banners, the white-veiled communicants at the head of the train, and the more darkly and humbly clad forefathers and foremothers of the hamlet bringing up the rear, on the winding way along the hollow road up the hill-side to the rustic church that crowns its brow; or those robed and tonsured priests in the cloistral half-shadow of their stalls at Notre-Dame (172); or that gaunt and grim Breton beggar-woman over her never-grudged
écuille of soup, or that Breton house-wife at her sleepless wheel. It is impossible to forget Lhermitte’s work. He is at once the
Millet and
Jules Breton of Black and White; and it would be a curious and not useless artistic problem to work out upon his drawings what is the secret of the pathetic effect obtained without delineation – indeed, with hardly even indication – of feature, and only the rudest suggestions of form. A. Legros has something of this power, but his style is at once dryer and more distinct (see his “Beggar and Worshippers at a church-porch of Bruges”) (92).’
Van Gogh uses the plural ‘comptes rendus’, which may be a reference to other favourable reviews of Lhermitte’s work, such as those by Tom Taylor in The Graphic 15 (23 June 1877), p. 594 and The Graphic 18 (6 July 1878), p. 6, and the anonymous contribution to The Illustrated London News 72 (22 June 1878), p. 582. For the works exhibited, see Le Pelley Fonteny 1991, p. 508.