The Passions of Vincent Van Gogh

By Xlibris US

Vincent van Goghs life was driven by passions, from the religious to the romantic. These passions illuminated his work as an artist, but also led to his many disappointments in life. Whether attempting to be a missionary, falling in love with his cousin, sheltering a prostitute and her children, proposing to his neighbors spinster daughter or establishing an art colony with Paul Gauguin failure haunted him. Although his uniquely vibrant colors and dramatic brushstrokes redefined impressionist painting, success eluded him. Only after his tragic death was his artwork finally recognized for its intensity, appeal, and enduring impact.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493198900

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Eugenie

I wonder. Sometimes I wonder. To what extent do life’s earliest experiences impact one’s entire life? Did the fact that Vincent’s name was on a gravestone in the graveyard of his father’s church impact his formative years in some way? How could it not? A stillborn, would-be older brother whose name, an exact duplicate of his own name, was carved on a tombstone that he saw every time he walked past it in the church cemetery. With his father the minister and his home the vicarage, how could it not affect him? Thus was the beginning of the turbulent life of an artistic genius who was led by his passionate nature to an early grave.

It wasn’t that she was a beauty, but she was pretty in her way, and she was his age. A bit of a flirt with dark curly hair, Eugenie Loyer let the shy and impressionable young man, who had rented a room with board from her mother, think she was interested in him. Vincent, at age twenty, had newly arrived in London and was working in the Goupil & Cie art gallery of which his Uncle Cent was a partner. Since age sixteen, Vincent had been serving an apprenticeship in one or another of the chain of art galleries, learning the art dealership business.

In London, away from family ties, especially the firm influence of a stern father, the young man was vulnerable, and Eugenie’s flirtatious ways prompted an amorous response. Perhaps a bit vain, she wanted and couldn’t resist seeking his admiration. She got more than that. Vincent, lonely and open to adventures of the heart, fell in love.

When they met at the dinner table, Eugenie made a point of serving Vincent the best portions. After he had spent the day at the gallery, she and Vincent found short periods when they could be together for quiet talks. It was enough for Vincent to become enamored with the vivacious, flirty young woman. She couldn’t resist the opportunity to play the enchantress with the young tenant, obviously smitten, who couldn’t resist her charm. There could be no future for them. Unknown to Vincent, she was secretly engaged. When he found out, he was crushed. Both rejected and deceived.

How long does it take to recover from a wounded heart? Whether or not the first love is called puppy love, it can leave scars. At least on the heart of the innocent lover who was led to believe his feelings were returned in kind. Is it cruelty on the part of the coquette, or simply weakness? A need to know she was found attractive, alluring, and loveable. Was she to be despised or pitied? Certainly the gullible young lover-to-be is to be commiserated with in his misery, whether hurt, angry, or both. He was ready to fall in love and an easy victim in the game of love.

Pretty, vivacious Eugenie was the first but not the last to break Vincent’s heart. It was a few years before he allowed himself to love again. And it took time for his heart to heal and his need to love and be loved to consume him once more.

Vincent filled the years between loves with the sincere effort to find himself by working in the Goupil & Cie, Art Dealers and Publishers of Engravings, in their various locations including Paris. It was after his disappointing experience with Eugenie that the art dealership transferred him to the Paris branch, where he visited museums and was impressed by the paintings produced by Camille Corot and the seventeenth-century Dutch painters. At the Paris location, the art dealership was no longer Goupil & Cie. It had been taken over by a different ownership, Boussod & Valadon.

Unfortunately, Vincent had disagreements with the new owners. The problems were brought on by his own behavior. Impatient with the customers who acted aloof and condescending because his manners were not polished, he made no effort to win over their approval. When he became aware that some considered him boorish, he was utterly indifferent to their opinion, for he considered them both uninformed and pretentious. It became obvious that the new owners were displeased with his performance as a salesperson in their establishment.

Although Vincent had requested and been granted a leave of absence to join his family over the Christmas holidays, his request was revoked just as he was preparing to travel home. There was a heated exchange, and Vincent was determined he would not be denied his previously approved holiday. Was he told that if he left to join his family not to bother to return? Such an attitude would only enflame the redheaded and hot-tempered Vincent. He would not be denied the holiday with his family that he, alone and lonely in Paris, had been dreaming about for months.

Storming out of the Boussod & Valadon gallery, six years after he started as an apprentice with Goupil & Cie, Vincent left Paris for his planned Christmas holiday with his family. Was he expecting to be fired as a result of his impetuous act? Perhaps. He wasn’t happy there anyway. But if he could have anticipated the reaction of his family when they learned of his rash departure without permission, would he have acted in the same way?

During the reunion with his family over the holiday that they traditionally celebrated together, he didn’t mention abruptly leaving the gallery despite the threat of dismissal. Why dampen their holiday cheer? He would deal with the matter in his own way. But he knew he had to tell his father something. They were bound to learn about the angry exchange and his walking away from the gallery.

At the end of his holiday stay with family, when others had left, he talked with his father alone in the parson’s study. Vincent told a version of the truth that indicated his unhappiness at Boussod & Valadon. Not the whole truth. Not the angry words spoken and his abrupt departure. Not his walking away from his position there, despite the threat of being dismissed if he did so. He only told his father of his unhappiness there. He left it at that. His father seemed satisfied with the half-truth and was ready to agree that perhaps Uncle Cent could find Vincent another position in the company where he would fit in better.

During his train ride back to Paris, Vincent reviewed the situation. Would they really fire him? Maybe not. After all, Uncle Cent was a founding member of the Goupil & Cie gallery and still a driving force. He had continuing influence with the new owners of the firm. How would Vincent’s act of walking away without permission during the busy Christmas season sit with Uncle Cent? Would the uncle, for whom he was named, forgive him? Would his uncle understand how lonely he had been? Would he condone Vincent’s need to go home where he was surrounded by loving family at that special time of the year?

Well, Vincent was deceiving himself if he believed his act of defiance would be condoned. He was expecting too much. Not only of Uncle Cent, but also of his family at home. He had shamed and dishonored the family name. They were shattered by the truth when it became known to them. Uncle Cent literally washed his hands of Vincent, in action and attitude. He would concentrate on promoting the younger brother, Theo. A better candidate for the art dealership business anyway. Theo had more potential as a businessman. Far more attentive to the customers’ interests. Well, he had tried to give his namesake a step up the ladder to success. Vincent was ungrateful and an embarrassment.

Vincent had to find his own way. He would no longer be a protégé of Uncle Cent. All that was in the past. So be it. He was alone, but he wasn’t helpless. On the first of April 1876, Vincent traveled to Ramsgate in England. There, at age twenty-three, he was hired at a private boy’s school as an assistant teacher of French and German, languages in which he had become fluent, partly no doubt as a result of his being posted in the art galleries in countries where he needed to be able to speak the language.

Lonely, he started attending church on a regular basis as well as working as a teacher and curate with Reverend T. Slade Jones, a Methodist minister. Vincent was allowed to deliver an occasional sermon. He earned a very low wage, but as a result of the experience, he believed he had a religious calling.

Seeking to fulfill his desire to help those in need, Vincent felt he had found his niche in life. The needs of the spirit would be a natural calling, following in his father’s footsteps. He decided to be a man of the cloth, a minister to those who sought in religion an answer to all their wants and cares. He had failed as a salesman in the art galleries, secured for him by his Uncle Cent. As an art agent, Vincent lacked the finesse to pander to buyers. He had tried teaching, but it wasn’t satisfying. It was his experience as a curate with an opportunity to prepare and give sermons that appealed to him. He would have to study theology if he hoped to become a minister. He had already started studying the Bible. His father would be pleased, Vincent was sure, if he decided to enter the clergy.

He returned to the family home for Christmas, which was his usual practice. Looking thin and feeling unwell, he was encouraged to stay with his family rather than returning to London. He agreed to remain briefly in Etten, located in the North Brabant Province of the Netherlands. After which, as a result of his Uncle Cent’s intervention, Vincent traveled twenty-two miles for a position as an apprentice in a bookseller business in Dordrecht in South Holland province. It lasted from January to April. During that period, he spent his free time visiting museums. He also attended church daily and became even more convinced that he should follow a career in religion. In a letter, he confided to Theo that their father always expected Vincent, as the eldest son, to become a preacher, explaining that in their family, generation after generation, one son had entered the ministry. His father would expect it, and as Vincent explained to his brother, he felt called to preach the Gospel. Therefore he planned to follow in his father’s and his grandfather’s footsteps.

With the approval of his father, in May 1877, Vincent traveled to Amsterdam to study for the entrance examination for the evangelical college. It was arranged that he would live with his Uncle Johannes and, while there, would teach Sunday school classes. Studying in preparation for the test that would gain him access to the religious institution, his courses included both Latin and Greek, which he may have found daunting, but probably not overwhelming. He was no stranger to working hard. It wasn’t the study. He had learned other languages, modern languages. What dismayed him was what he saw when he looked around at his fellow students and heard their conversations. They weren’t concerned with making a contribution in the form of helping the lost souls in need of their forgiveness and guidance. They spoke mainly of a coveted position in a wealthy church, of gaining a certain power over whether or not to forgive a suffering parishioner who had transgressed. They wanted the position of power. They sought the lofty pulpit that placed them above their parishioners, from whence they could pontificate. They wanted to be thought of as better than their fellow man. To look down on them in judgment. Well, that was a far cry from what Vincent aspired to. He wanted to be accepted as an equal, so that those in need would confide in him.

In midsummer, Vincent decided to terminate his current lessons and instead to take a course for lay preachers. Less demanding, to be sure, but he would still be able to enter his father’s field as a preacher in one of the mining communities, which should please his father. He had had the opportunity to give an occasional sermon when he taught in the private school directed by the Reverend William Port Stokes. Therefore, he was convinced he could give an adequate sermon.

Vincent, in July 1878, went to Brussels accompanied by his father, to arrange for the three-month course for lay preachers. He was sincere in his desire to pursue a religious calling. All to no avail. Not a natural speaker, his sermons were not to the liking of the religious leaders of the group he was to represent. At the end of his studies, he was found lacking the qualities they sought in a lay preacher under their auspices. It seemed unfair to Vincent. Other men taking the same training seemed insincere to him. They weren’t, in his opinion, truly concerned about the souls of those to whom they would serve as a religious leader. They were only truly concerned about finding a relatively easy livelihood where they would be given housing and a fairly good income.

That wasn’t what Vincent was after. He could live with his parents as several of his siblings were doing if all he wanted was housing and food. Vincent was convinced he had a religious calling. On his own, he went to the Borinage mining district, took poor lodgings that were barely adequate, and proceeded to follow in his perceived role as a missionary by tending to the sick and giving Bible readings to the mining families.

Evidently impressed by his determination, and perhaps convinced by his father’s intervention on his behalf, Vincent was given a six-month trial period as a lay preacher in a mining community in Wasmes in the Borinage. Having arrived at the mine, where he was posted as a lay preacher, Vincent wrote to Theo describing his experiences and the miners to whom he had come as a lay preacher in their midst. Many of them were rather emaciated, some sick with fever, and many looked old before their time. The women, for the most part, he described as worn appearing and faded.

In his correspondence with Theo, Vincent also described going down into one of the oldest of the mines to try to experience what the miners faced every day. He was accompanied by one of the older miners who acted as a guide. The man had spent more than thirty years in the coal mines. Together, they descended approximately seven hundred meters into an old tunnel supported by aged timbers, where miners worked cutting out chunks of coal. The guide explained the mining process during the six hours spent below ground in an old section of the mine. That particular mine had a bad record of accidents and the deaths of miners who worked in the deep underground tunnels. The miners suffered from the polluted air to which they were exposed and feared the dreaded gas explosions. The danger of tunnels collapsing was a constant threat in the old and the deepest sections.

There, in the dark depths of the earth lit only by the miner’s lamps, they labored by dim light in the small cells dressed in rugged garments besmudged by coal dust. Some of them were children, who were expected to labor in the smallest cells. Although most of the so-called cells were high enough for a man to stand upright, in the deepest cells, it was often necessary to work prone on the ground. Workhorses, kept in a stable far underground, pulled the carts that were filled with chunks of coal. The children who worked in the mines, some of whom were girls, primarily did loading of the carts, Vincent observed.

The underground tunnels were a very dangerous environment. Following an explosion in the mine, Vincent tended to the injured, trying to help them in body as well as soul. The sight of burned bodies and broken limbs was depressing. What could a lay preacher say? Such a terrible accident certainly wasn’t God’s will. Vincent did whatever he could to reduce the suffering. He applied grease and bandages to burned bodies. He had no medical training, but he ministered to those who had been injured in the underground blast and prayed with those who lost a loved one. He did more than simply preach the litany of the church. Vincent was zealous in his efforts to serve the poor mining community. He gave completely of himself, as not only a lay preacher offering comfort and praying with them for relief of their misery. He also offered his belongings, giving some of his own garments to the poor mining families when he became aware of their need of clothing. Some of the mining families had lost so much. Vincent felt the need to sacrifice as well. He could do with less himself and would share with the poor miners. He could do no less.

By dressing like the miners, Vincent tried to look like them and be accepted by them. Committed to the role of minister to the families in the mining community, he allowed his passionate desire to help the poor miners and their families to carry him beyond the limits acceptable to the evangelical leaders. Vincent had been given the limited mission posting to prove himself as a preacher to the miners. His passion to help the needy, his zeal and personal sacrifice rather than judged dedication to his role as religious leader, was seen as extremism. His actions, in an effort to be what he considered truly helpful, were looked upon with disfavor by the religious group he represented, and they did not renew his contract as a missionary to the mining families.

Convinced that he was meant to follow a religious calling, during the summer of 1879, he continued as an independent agent, to carry the Word of God to a mining community in the Borinage where, living in poverty, he felt he could fulfill some need of the miners. The need was real among the poor mining families. But perhaps the greatest need was Vincent’s inner drive to be needed, to feel that he was making a real contribution where his efforts were truly appreciated.

During that frustrating period, in his correspondence with Theo, Vincent referred to himself as a man of passions. He was aware of and admitted sometimes doing rather foolish things that he might regret. Of speaking too quickly, of things that perhaps would have been better not said or not done. All of which did not make him a dangerous man as far as he was concerned. However, he acknowledged it would be better to put those passions to good use. He admitted a passion for books and the desire to learn through them. He also realized that when he was employed by Goupil & Cie, surrounded by paintings, he had a great passion for art and confessed the he sorely missed the art gallery environment.

Vincent continued to develop his artistic skills. Besides preaching to and helping the mining families, Vincent made drawings of some of the miners and their wives. It was a way to express himself. Wherever he was, no matter what else occupied his time, Vincent continued to produce drawings. Art became the one constant expression of himself in his life, for he had continued to draw wherever he was located. Art was a passion that gave meaning to his life, whatever else failed.

In an effort to develop his artistic skills, Vincent also made copies of reproductions of the work of well-known artists. At that time he already owned twenty prints of Jean-François Millet’s works of art and suggested that if Theo could send him more prints, he would paint his versions of them as well. Vincent’s purpose was to develop his skill in rendering the human figure, by studying the art prints of paintings and drawings produced by Millet, in particular, whose many depictions of French peasants were an inspiration to him.

Early in 1880, on a long walking journey, Vincent went as far as Courrieres in France, to an area where he hoped to visit the studio of the French painter Jules Breton. He found the studio building but was daunted by the cold brick exterior and lacked the courage to approach and introduce himself to the man whose work he admired. Instead, he observed the numerous haystacks in the countryside and the community of weavers working in their huts. He spent time drawing the miners with their coal-dust blackened faces and rugged miner’s clothes who were living and working in that area. Many of his artistic efforts were simple, rough sketches. He revealed, in a letter to Theo, that although he sold a few drawings for coins to buy crusts of bread to sustain him along the way, during his walking tour, the last frosty nights he had to sleep in the open, wherever he could find a spot, including an empty wagon one night and a haystack, in the rain, on another. With a renewed interest in drawing, Vincent returned to the Borinage and the relative comfort of a miner’s hut.

The constant in his life was his brother Theo. In July that year, Theo, who always encouraged Vincent in his artistic efforts, began sending money to help support his older brother. One wonders why Theo took on the financial support of his brother. It is obvious, from Vincent’s voluminous letters that a sincere love existed between the two brothers. Perhaps their filial affection was enhanced unknowingly by their father who always criticized Vincent, condemning him as a failure, perhaps calling him lazy and unable to succeed at any venture, while at the same time praising Theo for his determined success in his field at the Goupil & Cie art galleries. And perhaps his father praised him when Theo remained with the Boussod & Valadon dealership that took over the Goupil & Cie gallery chain, which both Vincent and Theo had started with as apprentices sponsored by their Uncle Cent.

Theo was the success and the pride of his father, as he was repeatedly told. Instead of making Theo feel proud, it probably made him feel guilty. Did he wonder if he might be stealing his father’s love away from Vincent? Why should his father shower him with praise and affection and condemn Vincent. It wasn’t fair. Theo was only doing his job, after all, just to earn his way not to show up his older brother. Poor Vincent. So misunderstood especially by his father, but also by his mother for whom he produced drawings and paintings that were considered, by her, anything but successful. They couldn’t see the talent in their oldest son and the promise of future success. Well, he could! How wonderful it would be to be a talented, creative person like Vincent, not just a hard worker good at his business. Vincent was special! And he would give Vincent the financial aid and encouragement they denied him.

Theo also sent Vincent more print reproductions of artworks by Millet, the French artist who captured scenes of farm laborers in the fields. Millet would continue to be an inspiration to Vincent as an artist who had become famous by depicting the beauty of the common man tilling the fields in a country setting. Vincent saw truth in Millet’s paintings and was inspired by them.

While working in the Goupil & Cie art galleries, Vincent had been surrounded by art. Ever critical of his own artistic efforts, he knew he needed some sort of guidance or lessons. In the fall of 1880, Vincent went to Brussels to study drawing briefly at the Academy of Art in that city. His father was not insensitive to the fact that Vincent had been living in a state of poverty and, in October of 1880, sent Vincent a monthly stipend of sixty francs, as a temporary assistance, since the current living costs in Brussels were approximately a hundred francs a month. Vincent knew it was money his father could little afford to give him, and that made the gift all the more meaningful. Was it a sign that his father approved of his studying art?

During that period in Brussels, Vincent met the Dutch artist Ridder van Rappard, the very elegant son of an affluent lawyer and descendant of a noble family. Regardless of their differences, they became friendly companions. Rappard, five years younger than Vincent, had his own studio where the new friends spent time together creating their works of art. Vincent and Rappard would correspond and maintain a close friendship after they went their separate ways.

Vincent decided to spend the summer months that year at the family home in Etten. He didn’t need much encouragement, and he was sure it would be easier on his father financially, since he would no longer require the monthly stipend of sixty francs he had received in Brussels. Vincent was convinced he was a disappointment to his father. First, by failing to succeed in the family business of art dealers; then, in the family traditions on his father’s side of generations of preachers.

Vincent left for the vicarage at Etten in April 1881 where his father was currently pastor of the Protestant church. He wanted and needed to visit his family home and refresh his body and spirit, and especially to see Theo, who was there on a visit. Vincent valued the opportunity to spend some time with his brother. They discussed Vincent’s development as an artist, and Theo encouraged his older brother’s artistic efforts, not only with words but also in agreeing to continue his financial assistance, which was essential if Vincent were to develop his artistic skills.

One of Vincent’s paintings produced in Etten in 1881, entitled Boy Cutting Grass with a Sickle, is a study in black chalk and watercolor. Unlike some of his early work, the colors are delicate, light tones. The field beyond the crouching boy, hard at work, is a pale yellowish-green, and the plot of ground where he works is a soft shade of green. He wears tan pants and a brown vest. The sleeves of his shirt are a pale blue. The outlines and folds of his garments were finely drawn. The artist must have been satisfied with this rendition since he signed it Vincent in the lower-left corner of the composition.

In addition to the religious ancestral line of preachers on his father’s side of the family, there was another family tradition on his mother’s side. Vincent’s cousin by marriage, the Dutch artist Anton Mauve, was a well-known and successful artist whose paintings were popular and highly salable. He decided to consult Anton Mauve. During the summer of 1881, Vincent went for a short visit to The Hague where he sought advice from his mother’s brother-in-law. He found Mauve both helpful and generous with his advice and encouragement. It was agreed that Vincent would check back with Mauve in the future. Having been convinced that he should remain in the family home, Vincent returned to Etten. Once ensconced at the vicarage, he stayed on and set up a studio in one of the vicarage outbuildings.

CHAPTER 2

Kee

It was there at Etten, cousin Cornelia Adriana Vos-Stricker, known as Kee, became important in Vincent’s life. A widow, she arrived with her young son Johannes for an extended visit at the home of her aunt and uncle. The handsome boy she brought with her was called Jan. During the warm summer days, when Vincent went into the fields to draw and paint, Kee and her son would accompany him as an outing for Jan. There must have been little for the boy to do at the vicarage, and Vincent was happy to have their company.

Kee was probably lonely, since her husband died approximately a year before. She was well-bred and educated, a person with whom Vincent could exchange ideas and share her joy in the small boy’s antics. To Kee, the pleasant afternoons were a welcome diversion from the daily routines of her aunt and uncle. For her the hours spent in a sunny meadow were a pleasant pastime and an opportunity for her son to run about and absorb the healthful fresh air and sunshine.

Perhaps both Kee and Vincent were lonely. For Kee, the opportunity to exchange ideas with her cousin in intellectual conversation was a relief. Both intelligent individuals, they could express ideas in a perfectly acceptable setting. How restricting it must have been for a single woman of good family. Who would she have to share time with other than relatives? She must have missed male companionship after her experience of sharing ideas with her husband. She no doubt enjoyed Vincent’s conversation as well as watching him draw or paint scenes.

Kee was a welcome visitor, and her young son brought the energy of a child into the rather quiet atmosphere of the vicarage. Playful by nature, the tousle-haired boy soon won the affection of everyone in the household including Vincent. He welcomed and encouraged Kee and her son to accompany him when he went into the nearby fields carrying his art supplies and a folding easel and stool.

To Kee, it was more than just an outing for the boy. She enjoyed walking in the open fields and watching Jan explore the natural setting. He was an exuberant child who needed space to run and jump, to gather stones and twigs in his imaginary games.

While inside the large old vicarage home of her aunt and uncle, Kee was reserved and quiet, often sitting with her needlework. When in the open air, walking through lush grass and clusters of wildflowers, she seemed to blossom. She played games of hide and seek with her son doing all the hiding. She would walk leisurely over the grass near where Vincent had set up his easel, to the spot where Jan was partially hidden behind the trunk of a tree or crouched behind a stump or large rock. There she discovered, with peals of laughter, her not quite hidden son. Vincent loved the sound of their gaiety. It lifted his spirit with joy and filled his soul with longing. This is what he missed in his life. The laughter and loving attention Kee gave her son. She obviously had much love to give.

Her year of obligatory mourning, after her husband’s untimely death, had passed. She still wore black, but by the rules of society, she was free to marry again. Free to give the love she was obviously so capable of showing with her boy. Through the warm days of her summer visit, Kee and Jan spent long hours in nearby fields with Vincent while he produced landscape drawings and paintings. They talked easily together and laughed often, being entertained by the antics of her son, who performed to gain their attention.

Vincent loved her laughter. It was lilting and contagious. And her rather plain face was radiant when she laughed. Her laughter made her beautiful in Vincent’s eyes. For Vincent, their companionship, while he was painting, had a deeper meaning. It was more than just passing time together. He was falling in love. Unfortunately, to Kee it was a pleasant opportunity to get to know her cousin as a friend. Not so for Vincent. He had found an intelligent woman of breeding with whom he chatted freely, and they laughed together at the playful boy’s fun and games.

Vincent could sympathize with her loss and lonely state. Wasn’t his natural inclination to help those who suffered in some way? But for Vincent, sympathy turned to empathy. Empathy turned to a need to fill the emptiness in her life. To loving her.

It was more than her smiles and laughter that led Vincent to believe she too was becoming enamored. When, walking side by side, his touch on her elbow to help guide her past a rough patch of ground was acknowledged with quiet word of thanks. And when she leaned over his shoulder to observe and admire his artwork in progress, the scent of her nearness aroused his passion. The lavender aroma of her floral-scented soap, though delicate, was enough to stir his senses. Completely unaware of her effect upon him, Kee treated Vincent with casual informality. Tall and slender, her simple black dress did not conceal the womanly curves of her body that enflamed him.

Sure that he could fill the emptiness in her life with his love, Vincent’s enthusiasm carried him beyond the bounds of decorum. Finally, during one afternoon outing, when she was standing close to him in the meadow, Vincent impulsively snatched her hand, drew her into his arms, and attempted to kiss her. Kee screamed a muffled protest, jerking her head to the side and pounding on his chest in her struggle for release. He stopped trying to kiss her, and while holding her squirming body close to him, he insisted that she should love him in return. Shocked and disgusted, her repeated response was never, no, never. Almost babbling in his desperation, believing perhaps that his love for her was enough for the both of them, he declared that he would take care of her and her son Jan, of whom he was truly fond. It would solve their loneliness for both of them. Nearby, the boy burst into tears and ran to his mother, throwing his arms around her legs, making her efforts at retreat more difficult.

Vincent had misread her friendliness as hopefully something much more. Both surprised and crushed by her violent reaction, he released her. While she knelt and took her sobbing child into her arms to console him, Vincent continued to plead with her, beseeching Kee to accept his love. Angry and disgusted, she declared never, no, never once again and, carrying the still-crying boy, retreated to the sanctuary of the vicarage.

Confused and determined, Vincent felt that his deep passion for her would prevail, that she needed him and his love to fill the emptiness in her life. He could convince her. He was sure he could convince her, if not to love him at least to let him love and take care of her and her boy. It would solve the loneliness for them both. Why shouldn’t he love her? He had a right to love whomever he wished, even if she didn’t love him in return.

Poor Vincent. Was he always to be frustrated where women were concerned? His insistent romantic pursuit shocked and dismayed his family. Kee left the vicarage abruptly and traveled to Amsterdam, to the home of her parents. After her escape to Amsterdam, hurt by her rejection, but still determined to convince Kee that she should marry him, he wrote numerous letters to her and to her father, declaring his undying love for Kee and his determination to win her love for him in return.

As time passed, there was no response from her, and other members of the family intervened to try to convince him to stop pursuing her. When several months of writing letters to Kee went unanswered, Vincent decided to just appear without warning at his uncle’s doorstep. But he would need the funds to pay for train fare, and he had no money. His parents were disgusted by his insistence and discouraged his pursuit of his cousin. Kee obviously wanted nothing to do with Vincent, and he was disrupting the entire family. He was simply told to stop writing her.

Vincent agonized over Kee’s rejection, and her never, no, never rang in his head over and over. He realized that at that moment she really meant it. She hadn’t even considered him as a possible mate as he had imagined. How wrong he had been. How humiliating! He had wanted her to love him. Oh, how he loved Kee and wanted her to love him in return. How blind he had been to misread her cousinly friendship as blossoming love.

Then a sudden thought brought hope to his heart. Was she really so shocked by his declaration of love? Could she have been so unaware of her effect on him? His moment of hope turned to sudden anger. Had she played him for a fool? Couldn’t she tell how her nearness stirred his senses? Had he really read too much in her sweet smiles? Oh god, how sweet