He rented a room and began painting again and seemed to be restored to some semblance of normalcy, or as close to it as he had ever been. He painted nearly one painting a day, consumed by his work.
Vincent made a visit to Theo and Johanna on July 6 after hearing about Theo and his son’s having been recently ill, and the tension in their home was quite palpable, so Vincent returned to Auver-sur-Oise after only a few hours. His letters over the next three weeks boasted his being happier, more settled and less restless. His actions soon after would hold these sentiments in complete contradictions.
Church at Auvers, The - June 1890
Catholic church of Auvers, which Vincent immortalized in his painting, refused to allow him to be buried in its cemetery because of his having committed suicide.
One of two works believed by Van Gogh scholars to be Vincent's last works.
Cottages with Thatched Roofs and Figures
One of two works believed by Van Gogh scholars to be Vincent's final works.
Wheat Field With Crows - July 1890
Although popularly believed to be Vincent's last painting before he committed suicide, Van Gogh scholars believe it was painted more than two weeks before that.
On July 27, he took his easel and painting equipment and a gun out to the wheatfields and shot himself in the chest. He staggered back to the inn and the doctor was summoned and notified Theo immediately. Theo came the next afternoon, and he and Vincent spent Vincent’s last hours together, with Theo holding him and speaking to him in Dutch. Theo later wrote, “He himself wanted to die. He said the sadness will last forever.”
Vincent died after midnight that night, at 1:30 AM on July 29, 1890. His funeral, on July 30, was held exactly twenty-one years to the day after he had gone to work at his uncle’s art gallery in the Hague. The funeral was held at the nearby township of Mery after the Catholic church of Auvers, which he had immortalized in his painting, refused to allow him to be buried in its cemetery because of his having committed suicide.
After his funeral, his friend Emile Bernard wrote to Albert Aurier, author of “The Isolated Ones”:
My dear Aurier,
Our dear friend Vincent died four days ago. I think that you will have already guessed the fact that he killed himself.
On Sunday evening he went out into the countryside near Auvers, placed his easel against a haystack and went behind the chateau and fired a revolver shot at himself. …He finally died on Monday evening, still smoking his pipe which he refused to let go of, explaining that his suicide had been absolutely deliberate and that he had done it in complete lucidity. A typical detail that I was told about his wish to die was that when Dr. Gachet told him that he still hoped to save his life, he said, "Then I'll have to do it over again." But, alas, it was no longer possible to save him. . . .
On Wednesday 30 July, yesterday that is, I arrived in Auvers at about 10 o'clock. His brother, Theodore van gogh, was there together with Dr. Gachet. …The coffin was already closed, I arrived too late to see the man again who had left me four years ago so full of expectations of all kinds. . .
On the walls of the room where his body was laid out, all his last canvases were hung making a sort of halo for him and the brilliance of the genius that radiated from them made this death even more painful for us artists who were there. The coffin was …surrounded with masses of flowers, the sunflowers that he loved so much, yellow dahlias, yellow flowers everywhere. It was, you will remember, his favourite colour,
Near him also on the floor in front of his coffin were his easel, his folding stool and his brushes.
Many people arrived, mainly artists, among whom I recognized Lucien Pissarro and Lauzet, the others I did not know, also some local people who had known him a little, seen him once or twice and who liked him because he was so good-hearted, so human. . .
There we were, completely silent all of us together around this coffin that held our friend.. . .
At three o'clock his body was moved, friends of his carrying it to the hearse, a number of people in the company were in tears. Theodore Van gogh, who was devoted to his brother, who had always supported him in his struggle to support himself from his art was sobbing pitifully the whole time. . . .
We climbed the hill outside Auvers talking about him, about the daring impulse he had given to art, of the great projects he was always thinking about, and of the good he had done to all of us.
We reached the cemetery, a small new cemetery strewn with new tombstones. It is on the little hill above the fields that were ripe for harvest under the wide blue sky that he would still have loved. . . perhaps.
Then he was lowered into the grave. . .
Anyone would have started crying at that moment. . . the day was too much made for him for one not to imagine that he was still alive and enjoying it. . .
Dr. Gachet wanted to say a few words of homage about Vincent and his life, but he too was crying so much that he could only stammer a very confused farewell. . . (the most beautiful way, perhaps).
He briefly outlined Vincent's achievements, stating how sublime his goal was and how great an admiration he felt for him (though he had only known him a short time). He was, Gachet said, an honest man and a great artist, he had only two aims, humanity and art. It was art that he prized above everything and which will make his name live.
Then we returned. Theodore Van Gogh was broken with grief; everyone who attended was very moved….
You know how much I loved him and you can imagine how much I wept. You are his critic, so don't forget him but try and write a few words to tell everyone that his funeral was a crowning finale that was truly worthy of his great spirit and his great talent.
With my heartfelt wishes
Bernard
No comments:
Post a Comment