CHAPTER 1
The Hague, Spring of 1882
It has been more than four months
since you left Etten. Too many disputes
with your father. You shudder when you recall your leaving, the icy wind that
morning, your shoes much too narrow, your brother’s jacket much too large.
Uncomfortable your father’s embrace in the silence only broken by the
unrestrainable tears of your mother. You have chosen not to give up, your black
beast, so you call it. A man can´t live in high seas, he needs a home, you
torment yourself and you want to convince the others, your friend Van Rappard,
by means of your regular correspondence.
So you have given shelter to Cristine, in the heartless winter, her foot
in the grave, devastated nerves, pregnant and with a four year old daughter.
Hardly making a living on the streets with her body. You confessed it to Théo,
but you were not able to pronounce the word. You get from her what is inside of
yourself, suffering. You were still in love with your cousin Kate when Cristina
would pose for you. Your heart, so hurt and disappointed -with your soul in red white, you wrote to your
brother- clings to art and life. They are united, you know that, and you name
charity love, and your encounter as unavoidable and unhappy as yourselves.
You describe her to your brother:
Cristina Clasina Maria Hoornik, Sien, resembles your old nanny in Zundert. She
is not beautiful but she isn’t unsightly; however, her language is. Words that
your sister Will would never use come out from her mouth every day.
She
will learn, you don’t have any doubt, her enormous adaptability will make the
change easier.
You take care of her, you prevent
her from carrying the water bucket for the house chores, from going upstairs
with the potatoes for the soup for your dinner, a very clear soup. Her eyes and
her discreet hand talk to you, mild caress over yours; odd, at the beginning,
-never before did she receive so many cares during her pregnancy-; grateful,
afterwards. No man behaved with me this
way, she dared to pronounce and she turned back to the fire, embarrassed.
You
understood her long fight since she was young, outraged by embraces, without
any time for nostalgia and tears,
Sien makes your heart wider, you
appreciate her for that, nobody had depended on you before, you feel more like
a man, useful, and at the same time, overwhelmed by so much fear. At least you
have to be good at this, Vincent, you owe it to yourself. Touched by her
loneliness, which is yours, you rebel: Men, let us love what we love; let us be
ourselves, your axiom; you prepare yourself to be dishonored and you believe
that this is your way, you don´t offer resistance to this long way to go: to
suffer, to love, to wait, to crawl along with your defeat on your back, if
necessary, any experience that makes all your cells remember that you are
alive. All this better than not having existed.
Théo warns you, your own family
could sue you in order to avoid the engagement by claiming that you can´t
support her. There is nothing punishable in your relationship, you rebut that,
what you have seems warm fondness, it is not the passion you felt for your
cousin, but this love, the only one you are able to give now, permits you to
progress as an artist.
Sien accepts your work, she poses
patiently, she accompanies you and she comforts you, she could be the wife of
an artist; Kee could not. You look for your brother’s understanding, you would
not find that in a man of his position, but you can have a woman like her.
You wish he would intercede with
your parents for you, they won´t understand it and you would not be able to
restrain yourself. Uncle Vincent is in Paris, he must not know anything, you
beg your brother, and the immorality you attempt on would touch your whole
family.
The intervention in Leyden has
turned out right, you inform Théo, the baby was not positioned correctly. The
doctors used forceps. New hopes. You sweat and trembled because of your fear
rather than on account of your fever.
Sien said goodbye with a hint of a
smile before they took her on the stretcher. You were afraid to lose her, and
the baby, whom you love already. You know that your brother does not approve
what you do, but with his money order he has saved her life. You are grateful
deep inside of you.
As for the other family.
They
consume your energies, this is worse than not having any. From your father you
only get silence. You have disappointed him, again. Disagreeing with him is
offending him, you are the reflection where he wants to shine and, however, you
mist it up. They are influenced by rumors, finesse of the devil so you call
them, and they don´t accept you the way you are, no more, without any
judgments. The freedom to choose, Vincent, the beauty of being yourself and of
fitting your present with your projects, with your conscience, has been
forbidden to you. Preachers lie, you tell yourself, they crown what is only
manipulation with justice and freedom. Your father is one of them, you have to
assume it with pain. You won't be subdued.
The clothes for the baby are
prepared, the rent must be paid at the beginning of June, dry bread and coffee
are the only things you have left, without a new envelope you will be those
who are about to die salute you. Until your works begin to sell,
there won't be any more income, you must trust in your uncle paying your
drawings. You save the money of the cleaning lady, Sien does the housework.
Van Rappard has visited you.
The affectionate embrace of a friend
comforts you. His firm hand, his sincere and natural chat cheer you up. When he
realizes that one of your pictures was damaged, aware of your shortage, he gave
you 250 guilders to repair it.
You paint at four in the morning,
when the human eye perceives the uniform tones, the outline is more definite
and the passers-by don't disturb you.
Since the 12th of May you don't
receive any letters from Théo. June starts, you owe twelve fifty guilders to
your housekeeper, the situation is desperate, he could kick you out from your
house and sell your furniture, you want to avoid the scandal. You send Theo a
letter asking for money but you do not even have enough for the stamp.
You are both saved. Letter from
Théo. You will receive 150 francs every month in three deliveries.
You paint the dunes, for several
nights you have camped like truly bohemians. Coffee, bread and hot water that
you got there. Your sketches will be helpful for a series of canvases that you
will complete in August and, in the next spring, charcoal, ink, chalk: Women
Mending Nets in the Dunes, Dunes with People, oils without daring colours, mists prevail.
Behind the mounds the clear skies
are waiting for you.
You have earned 20 guilders with
your uncle Cornelio’s order. It is not much, perhaps he did not like the last
drawing.
If he is used to watercolours, your
series drawn by pencil might be dull.
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This is an excerpt from the first chapter of my novel Querido Vincent. English translation by Juan Montes Adán.
A la venta en español en AMAZON.ES
