So while digging around in Lautrec Land, I found this, a rather sad diagram (in Spanish) listing all the disabilities Lautrec had. It's called Toulouse-Lautrec Syndrome, which may not exist, and as far as I can see his problems were genetic, the result of generations of aristocratic inbreeding. It's an ugly topic, as it verges on incest in too many ways, and the most horrendous example is what happened to the Habsburgs, who inbred their way to a screeching halt with the freakish Charles II of Spain.
But Toulouse had a more charming persona - well, yes, he WAS charming, the too-long overcoat, the dapper hat and walking stick and the legs that were half the length one would expect. He looks kind of like a doll, a puppet, a child-man. This was a sort of semi-fictional character he deliberately cultivated, so that he became a kind of mascot for the avant-garde.
So what went on inside hm? A lot of it is in the paintings. But even more of it is evidenced in the way he lived. Not too unusual for a bohemian of his time, but all the absinthe and the cognac and all the rest of it finally and inevitably did him in. No doubt this came at a much younger age due to all his disabilities, visible or internal. Not to mention that other creepy affliction: syphilis, which was totally untreatable then and which anyone who went to prostitutes could not help but end up with.
It was a short life, a hard life, but what a life! The Julia Frey biography emphasizes that his life was NOT one big misery - he was a Goodtime Charlie (or Charlot) who really did know how to enjoy himself. He had a host of friends, good and loyal friends who truly loved and took care of him (though they were unable to stop or even regulate the drinking which eventually killed him).
It wasn't all hell and suffering and wretchedness. He actually made a good living selling his work in many forms. He was never even remotely a starving artist, for even if the paintings and lithographs weren't selling, his mother provided him with a comfortable allowance to live on (not unlike Van Gogh with his brother Theo). The sad thing is that he never really had an intimate relationship with a woman that wasn't casual or short-lived (usually a business transaction). In the movie Moulin Rouge, a woman does try to love him, but he is too encased in his bitterness to allow her to penetrate his hard shell.
Did this happen? We don't know. We know he suffered, but he also rejoiced, posed for wacky pictures, played pranks, sang drinking songs, went to bed with tarts, and generally whooped it up.
