[PARA. 1] My dear Sensier, would you be so kind as to clear up these papers for me? I really don’t have the head for it. These are mortgages that each one has taken on my time, believing me richer than I am, and I find myself powerless to pay them off with my own funds, especially since I am busy at the moment finishing my painting of the Village. As if I will strike fear in you with just this word, recalling that the affection you have for this painting of primitive ways involves for you the notion that it should be finished only at the actual place. This will give me the double opportunity first, to correct an error that you share with intelligent people concerning the workings of art, but which speaks entirely in favor of your heart, because it is not a fundamental one, and after an explanation we will agree on all points. Secondly, to prove to you with the somewhat long developments that this question requires that it is not out of pure laziness to write that I unload my pen work on you, but rather because it does not accord with my current preoccupation.

Mon cher Sensier, voulez-vous avoir la complaisance de débrouiller ces papiers pour moi? je n’y ai vraiment pas la tête. Ce sont des hypothèques que chacun a prises sur mon temps, me croyant plus riche que je ne suis, et je me reconnais impuissant à les acquitter sur mon propre fonds, d’autant plus que je suis occupé en ce moment à terminer mon tableau du Village. Comme par ce seul mot je vais vous mettre en crainte, me rappelant que l’affection que vous avez pour ce tableau des moeurs primitives implique chez vous l’idée qu’il ne doit se terminer que sur les lieux mêmes. Ce sera pour moi la double occasion d’abord de vous tirer d’une erreur, que vous partagez avec les gens intelligents, par rapport au mécanisme de l’art, mais qui reste tout à l’avantage de votre coeur, car elle n’en est pas une de fond, et après explications nous allons être d’accord de tous points. Secondement, de vous prouver par les développements un peu longs qu’entraîne cette question, que ce n’est pas par paresse pure d’écrire, que je me décharge sur vous de mon travail de plume, mais bien parce qu’il ne peut concorder avec ma préoccupation du moment.

[PARA. 2] I am going to write something as lengthy as you will for me, and since these Matters of art do not bore you, we will have exchanged equal time and I’ll have a readymade excuse for my prolixity.

Je vais vous en mettre aussi long que vous en ferez pour moi, et puisque ces Choses de l’art ne vous ennuient pas, nous nous serons donné temps pour temps et j’aurai une excuse toute faite pour ma prolixité.

[PARA. 3] Do not fear for my Village; if I put the finishing touches on it in Paris, its virginal impressions of nature will not be any less present to me; they date from long ago and cannot fade away; but, right now, the most beautiful countryside couldn’t have aroused more energy to set me to work on them than the indignation with which I’ve just been struck in Paris, in seeing trees full of the endearments of spring cut down. How can one stop the tree cutters from thoughtlessly committing such acts and make them love enough beings who are only beneficent to them? This, my dear Sensier, is a powerful lever of action, and demands new strength of me to achieve the composition of my painting. The delineation has been fixed for a long time; but I mean by composition that which is within us entering as much as possible into the external reality of things.

Ne craignez pas pour mon Village; si j’y mets la dernière main à Paris, je n’en aurai pas moins présentes les impressions virginales de la nature: elles datent de loin et ne peuvent s’effacer; mais, en ce moment, la plus belle campagne ne m’aurait pas suscité autant de force pour les mettre en oeuvre que l’indignation dont je viens d’être pris à Paris, en voyant abattre des arbres chargés de toutes les tendresses du printemps. Comment empêcher les abatteurs d’arbres de commettre insoucieusement de pareils actes et leur faire aimer assez des êtres qui ne leur sont que bienfaisants? Ceci, mon cher Sensier, est un puissant levier d’action, et me demande de nouvelles forces pour achever la composition de mon tableau. Il y a longtemps que la délinéation en est déterminée; mais j’entends par composition ce qui est en nous, entrant le plus possible dans la réalité extérieure des choses.

[PARA. 4] If it were otherwise, the mason armed with his lath would have quickly finished the composition of a painting representing the sea. A line traced at any height on the canvas would suffice. Now, who will compose the sea, if not the artist’s soul? . . .

Si c’était autrement, le maçon armé de sa latte en aurait fini bien vite avec la composition d’un tableau représentant la mer. Il suffirait d’une ligne tracée à n’importe quelle hauteur sur la toile. Maintenant, qui composera la mer, si ce n’est l’âme de l’artiste? . . .

[PARA. 5] There is composition when the objects depicted are not depicted for themselves, but for the purpose of containing, under a natural appearance, the echoes that they have placed in our soul.

Il y a composition quand les objets représentés ne le sont pas pour eux-mêmes, mais en vue de contenir, sous une apparence naturelle, les échos qu’ils ont placés dans notre âme.

[PARA. 6] If one can deny that they think, certainly they make us think, and in return for all the modesty that they make use of to elevate our thoughts, we owe them, as the price of their spectacle, not arrogant mastery, or pedantic and classical style, but all the sincerity of grateful care in the reproduction of their beings, for the powerful action they arouse in us. They only ask us, for all they give us to think about, not to disfigure them, not to deprive them of this air that they so need.

Si l’on peut contester qu’ils pensent, à coup sûr il nous donnent à penser, et en retour de toute la modestie dont ils font usage pour élever nos pensées, nous leur devons, pour prix de leur spectacle, non l’arrogante maîtrise, ou le style pédant et classique, mais toute la sincérité d’une attention reconnaissante dans la reproduction de leurs êtres, pour la puissante action qu’ils éveillent en nous. Ils ne nous demandent, pour tout ce qu’ils nous donnent à penser, que de ne pas les défigurer, de ne pas les priver de cet air dont ils ont tant besoin.

[PARA. 7] They also ask our mercy for what we call modeling in the language of the studio, which usually consists of shading them dark, bluish, on one side and a half-tint mixture on the other; they don’t want to have any relief except what is common to them, and what they take from the air. They themselves are in a mode, and ask only their very small part of the fullness of relief that we must consecrate to their life in this mode. On this condition, they can take the criticism that finds them flat and cutout when looking at them separately and as though one wanted to enumerate their outlines and accents. They will prove to be truly modeled in the air, however, if the painting seems to live on its atmosphere.

Ils nous demandent grâce aussi pour ce que nous appelons modeler en terme d’atelier, ce qui consiste ordinairement à leur colorer un côté noir, bleuâtre, et un autre mélange d’une demiteinte; ils ne veulent avoir de relief que celui qui leur est commun, et qu’ils empruntent à l’air. Ils sont eux-mêmes dans un mode, et ne demandent que leur très petite part de la plénitude de relief que nous devons consacrer à leur vie de ce mode. A cette condition, ils sauront supporter la critique qui les trouvera plats et découpés, en les regardant isolément et comme si on voulait en dénombrer les profils et les accents. Ils se trouveront cependant réellement modelés dans l’air, si le tableau semble vivre de son atmosphère.

[PARA. 8] They are no more difficult than that, but it’s quite enough, I assure you, to make me worry; and of all the spirits that one can conjure up, there is none who, under a more humble appearance, has given the reckless knight who evokes it such a dragon to fight. . . .

[PARA. 9] For God and in return for the life he has given us, let us act such that in our works the manifestation of life is our first thought; let us make a man breathe, and a tree able actually to vegetate. He who knows how to give life is god; but he who can only tastefully arrange undulating contours colored lily white or pink merely displays a turn for the upholster’s calling or the perfumer’s; he accumulates, the pretentious one! . . .

[PARA. 10] Don’t go finding me pedantic, my dear Sensier, if I summarize a little in this letter what I have already told you in fits and starts; but the toil that I give to your kind friendship for me is well worth my making the effort of a few words, to justify the abstraction I find myself in when it comes to any business, and whose motivation is laudable, since I have good reason to fear that the work that is the cause does not say it enough on its own.

Sincerely yours,

Th. Rousseau.

[PARA. 1] My dear Sensier, I read in the journal that I am sending you a letter from me that was sent in. I don’t see any great harm in it, since it’s absolutely a painter’s letter and it deals only with art. Even so, I had a shiver in seeing my prose put before the public eye. But in the end, there’s nothing wrong with it. One can perfectly well say why one makes paintings, when almost everybody is mistaken about the intention of a painter. Only, there is a first-rate typographic error, here it is: on the subject of trees. “They ask us only for a small part of the relief that we must consecrate to their life in this world [monde].” I am not that certain concerning the immortality of their soul, and I allow myself doubt in this regard. But correct right away, I beg you, this colossal blunder by an erratum conceived thus: “They ask us only for a small part of the relief that we must consecrate to their life in this mode [mode].”

Mon cher Sensier, j’ai lu dans le journal que je vous envoie une lettre de moi, qui a été communiquée. Je n’y vois pas grand inconvénient, puisque c’est absolument une lettre de peintre et qu’il n’y est question que de l’art. C’est égal, j’ai eu un frisson en apercevant ma prose mise sous les yeux du public. Mais enfin il n’y a pas de mal. On peut bien dire pourquoi on fait des tableaux, quand presque tout le monde se trompe sur l’intention d’un peintre. Seulement, il y a une fameuse faute de copie; la voici: au sujet des arbres. “Il ne nous demandent qu’une petite part du relief que nous devons consacrer à leur vie de ce monde.“ Je ne suis pas aussi affirmatif à propos de l’immortalité de leur âme, et je me permets le doute à cet égard. Mais rectifiez de suite, je vous prie, cette colossale bévue par un erratum ainsi conçu: “Ils ne nous demandent qu’une petite part du relief que nous devons consacrer à ce mode.”

[PARA. 2] So the readers are going to be intrigued by this word puzzle, and since it becomes inevitable to return to it, I will take advantage of it to explain myself categorically on “mode” in painting, because there’s a mistake there that involves students in years of study on an error, and one they risk not perceiving in their lifetime.

Les lecteurs vont donc être intrigués de ce logogriphe, et puisqu’il devient inévitable de revenir là-dessus, j’en profite pour m’expliquer catégoriquement sur le “mode” en peinture, car c’est là une méprise qui engage les élèves dans des années d’étude sur une erreur, et dont ils risquent à ne s’apercevoir de leur vie.

[PARA. 3] So in the studio, modeling is to copy all the different parts of a body and merge them in order to form the relief of that body, considered solely for its partial relief; you do the background afterward. You still haven’t arrived at the general unity of the whole. That’s what is called mode, derived from modeling: mode of light, harmonic mode, colored mode, mode of expression or of design. But this partial modeling, good in itself, is only the first act of the whole, and this whole must involve general, or symphonic, modeling, or modeling of the universal. One says therefore that a painting is painted in a gray mode like Ostade, ruddy like Rembrandt, silvery like Veronese, golden like Titian, because these masters rendered a luminous expression in a specially colored universality, a modality both particular and universal that struck their vision.

On appelle donc modeler, à l’atelier, copier toutes les différentes parties d’un corps et les fusionner en vue déformer le relief de ce corps, regardé uniquement pour son relief partiel; on fera le fond après. On n’en est pas encore à l’ensemble général du tout. Voilà ce qui se nomme le mode, dérivé de modeler: mode de lumière, mode harmonique, mode coloré, mode d’expression ou de dessin. Mais ce modelé partiel, bon en lui-même, n’est que le premier acte du tout, et ce tout doit comporter le modelé général, ou symphonique, ou modelé de l’universel. On dit alors qu’un tableau est peint dans un mode gris comme Ostade, roux comme Rembrandt, argentin comme Véronèse, doré comme Titien, parce que ces maîtres ont rendu une expression lumineuse dans une universalité spécialement colorée, une modalité particulière et universelle tout à la fois qui a frappé leur vue.

[PARA. 4] Thus, having a Greek medal in my pocket, I carry with me all of nature, because modeling is not that of an isolated body, but derives from the perception of the universal agency of light, because this medal is modeled according to what particular relief a body can borrow from the vital and luminous air; whereas a sculpture, still beautiful in the isolated expression of a type, restricts it in its specialty by losing sight of this universal luminous agency. Modeling thus can only be a concept, and the greatest of all. That is the absolute test of art; it is this that made the Ninevites, the Egyptians, the Greeks eternal.

[PARA. 5] Therefore, a wild shoot must have believed in the peace and the ruggedness of the desert for there to be beautiful fruits and beautiful rosebushes in our gardens: likewise the artist’s soul must have taken its fullness in the infinity of nature, so that we can benefit from the representation that he will make of a particular type suitable to our customs of civilization.

Ainsi, il faut qu’un sauvageon ait cru dans la paix et dans la rudesse des solitudes pour qu’il y ait de beaux fruits et de beaux rosiers dans nos jardins: de même il faut que l’âme de l’artiste ait pris sa plénitude dans l’infini de la nature, pour que nous ayons profit à la représentation qu’il fera d’un type particulier approprié à nos usages de civilisation.

[PARA. 6] I don’t know, my dear Sensier, if I make myself clearly understood; but I am so infatuated with this truth that I could talk with you about it for days, turning the formula about in all directions, like the paper that makes children’s folded paper birds, galleys, boats, and baskets. On all sides, in every kind of form, I see before my eyes modeling, the true aim of art. . . When will you come chat about it before nature?

Sincerely yours, with a handshake.

Tout à vous, en vous serrant la main.

Th. Rousseau.

Th. Rousseau.

[LEAF 1, RECTO] Monseigneur,

Allow me to come to you in the name of art to request justice for deeds that have deeply saddened artists for thirty years.

Permettez moi de venir au nom de l’art vous demander justice contre des faits qui depuis 30 ans attristent profondément les artistes.

I am speaking of the destruction committed in the forest of Fontainebleau by the administration itself.

This forest, the most ancient in France, is also the most remarkable for its sites and its very special character of beauty and grandeur.

It is the only living souvenir that remains from the heroic times of the Fatherland from Charlemagne to Napoleon.

For artists who study nature, it offers what others find in the models that have been left us by Michelangelo, Raphael, Correggio, Rembrandt, and all the great masters of past ages.

It has given to art artists like. . . Lantara, Michalon, Bruandet, Bertin, Corot, Th. Rousseau, Cabat, and Troyon.

And yet under the incessant action of a misguided administration, it tends each day to decay, and I don’t exaggerate in asserting that within ten years it will have completely lost its grand and ancient character and will offer only a banal, monotonous appearance if a powerful authority does not stop the administration that governs it.

Under the previous reign, complaints were raised many times about the management of State forests, and artists especially decried the systematic felling, clear-cuts, and unintelligent plantations that were made at Fontainebleau.

These complaints were never heeded.

Under your government, Monseigneur, this system continues; the forest administration indiscriminately cuts down trees whose great age, fame, and artistic beauty should make them respected, and in other areas of the forest they sow in profusion uncountable quantities of Northern Pines that are wiping out this forest’s old Gaul character and will soon give us the severe and sad look of Russian forests.

[LEAF 1, VERSO] On another front, the administration is allowing destruction of another kind. A resident of Fontainebleau, a maniacal old man named Mr. Denecourt, smitten in the wrong way with the beauties of the forest, is going off seeking aid from all quarters and using it to lay out useless trails, to build ridiculous lookout platforms, to make [walls] of grass, to cover with paint, numbers, and inscriptions the forest’s most beautiful trees, which he is despoiling and dishonoring.

Thus this unfortunate forest is sinking under the action of both those who are charged with conserving it and he who grants himself the right to embellish it.

Art, Monseigneur, suffers irreparable losses every year under the blows of these two agents of destruction, and I can affirm that the State does not gain, and will not gain in the future, a single benefit from these lamentable transformations.

By no means do I have the pretension to request reforming the forestry system at Fontainebleau. I know that this forest has to give the treasury a yield that wise management can easily provide; but I ask at least that art have its share in this grand cultivation. I ask that the places that are the subject of study for artists, recognized models for compositions and paintings, be placed beyond the reach of the forest administration that runs them poorly and the absurd man who exploits them.

These areas are of insignificant importance if one compares them to the size of the forest, which is ___ hectares. They do not cover more than ___ hectares. I therefore request for the artists’ Study and needs that one ___ of the forest of Fontainebleau no longer be meddled with. These areas are:

1. Bas-Bréau, the oldest wood of the forest, whose trees are so aged and worm-eaten that selling them does not cover the cost of cutting them down.

1° Le Bas Bréau la plus vielle futaie de la forêt dont les arbres sont tellement anciens et vermoulus que leur vente ne produit pas les frais d’abatage.

2. The Apremont Gorges and a portion of the Girard Hills, which will soon disappear under a thick layer of green Pines whose first shoots are appearing already throughout their domain. I request their removal.

2° Les Gorges d’Apremont et une portion des Monts Girard qui disparaîtront bientôt sous une couche épaisse de Pins verts dont les premières poussés apparaissent déjà dans toute leur étendue. Je demande leur disparution.

3. The Plateau of Belle Croix, a wild area studded with ancient oaks, among which are the Napoleon Oak and the Clovis.

3° Le Plateau de Belle Croix Contrée sauvage parsemée de chênes antiques parmi lesquels se trouve le Chêne de Napoléon et le Clovis.

4. The Gorge of the Wolves and its surroundings, already attacked by the ridiculous work of Mr. Denecourt.

4° La Gorge aux Loups et ses alentours déjà attaqués par les travaux ridicules de M. Denecourt.

I ask you for protection, Monseigneur, for [LEAF 2, RECTO] these old trees, which for artists are the source from which they draw their inspiration, their joys, and their future, and which are for all visitors venerable souvenirs of past ages.

I ask you to command that these reminders of Druidic times, of Charlemagne, St. Louis, Louis XII, and Napoleon be left to die tranquilly in peace.

If we recognize that the monuments of men, old churches and old palaces, must be respectfully preserved, would it not be just as reasonable to command that the most sublime monuments of nature have like them a tranquil end.

If you are willing to receive my claim, I dare beg you, Monseigneur, to decide that this affair be handled preferably by one or several artists, but by those who love the forest and live with it, and above all that my claim not be passed on to the ministry of finance, which, as has always been shown, will naturally assign a financier or a forester to study this question, which until now has always been decided by the forest administration and in its favor.

I did not want to give these complaints a collective character by having them signed by those who deplore the abuses that I have indicated to you, but I assure you, Monseigneur, that it is in the name of all artists that I have the honor to speak to you, and that in addressing this claim to you, I have merely expressed their true thoughts and constant wishes.

In saving these old trees, Monseigneur, from the axe that decimates them each year, in giving back to these areas their original purpose, you once again, if you permit me to say so, will have deserved well of artists and the arts.