The Night of December 23, 1888
In the cold Arles evening of December 23, 1888, Vincent van Gogh and Paul Gauguin had their final argument. The two artists had lived and worked together for nine https://sandiegovangogh.com/ weeks in the Yellow House, but their relationship had deteriorated into constant conflict. Gauguin wanted to paint from imagination; van Gogh demanded painting from nature. Gauguin was disciplined and calculating; van Gogh was impulsive and emotional. That night, after Gauguin announced he was leaving Arles permanently, van Gogh became hysterical. According to Gauguin’s later account, van Gogh threw a glass at him and threatened him with a razor. Gauguin left immediately and spent the night in a local hotel. What happened next would become the most infamous event in art history.
The Self-Mutilation and Its Immediate Aftermath
Alone and in a state of psychotic agitation, van Gogh took the razor and severed most of his left ear—not the entire ear, but the lower lobe. Then, in a bizarre and tragically symbolic act, he wrapped the bloody ear in newspaper and walked to a nearby brothel. There he gave the package to a woman named Rachel, saying, “Guard this object carefully.” He then returned home, collapsed, and nearly bled to death. Police found him unconscious the next morning. He was taken to the Hôtel-Dieu hospital in Arles, where Dr. Félix Rey treated him. Gauguin left for Paris the same day and never saw van Gogh again. The ear incident marked the end of any hope van Gogh had for an artist’s community.
The Possible Causes Behind the Crisis
Medical historians have proposed numerous explanations for van Gogh’s self-mutilation. The most accepted is that he suffered from temporal lobe epilepsy, often accompanied by auditory hallucinations and outbursts of violent behavior. Another theory suggests acute intermittent porphyria, a metabolic disorder that causes severe abdominal pain, seizures, and psychiatric symptoms. Some biographers point to alcohol abuse—especially absinthe, which contains thujone, a neurotoxin. Van Gogh also drank turpentine occasionally in desperation. The ear itself may have had symbolic meaning: gauntlets used in bullfighting (the event was common in Arles) were sometimes cut and given to spectators; a bullfighter’s ear was a trophy. In a psychotic state, van Gogh may have thought he was offering Gauguin a trophy of their fight. We will never know for certain.
The Hospitalizations and Self-Portraits
After the ear incident, van Gogh was hospitalized repeatedly. Doctor Rey sewed the ear back on but it did not heal properly. Van Gogh painted Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear in January 1889, showing himself with a pale, drained face and the bandage clearly visible. Behind him, an easel holds a blank canvas—his work waiting, as he waited for mental stability. He also painted The Bandaged Ear (now lost) showing a woman behind him. These paintings were not confessions but attempts to process what had happened. Van Gogh wrote to Theo: “I have kept a certain sense of calm in my mind in spite of the attacks.” But calm was fleeting. By May 1889, he voluntarily admitted himself to the asylum at Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, where he would paint Starry Night.
The Long Shadow of One Violent Night
The ear incident has become a dark legend, often reduced to a gothic anecdote about “the mad artist.” But for van Gogh, it was a genuine medical and emotional catastrophe. After this event, local children threw stones at him; neighbors signed a petition demanding his institutionalization. The incident destroyed his reputation in Arles permanently. Psychologically, van Gogh never fully recovered. He continued to have hallucinations and breakdowns for the remaining 18 months of his life. The ear itself has its own strange afterlife: in 2009, art historian Hans Kaufmann claimed that Gauguin, not van Gogh, cut off the ear during a fencing match, and van Gogh agreed to take the blame. Most scholars reject this theory. What remains undeniable is that one night of crisis defined van Gogh’s legacy as the suffering artist—a label that obscures the real man who dreamed of friendship, community, and a quiet room to paint.

