saw the glaring faults resulting from the carelessness with which he had removed the covers—faults impossible now to rectify without ruining the whole production. And in almost all the figures and faces he saw the remains of veils that had not been perfectly removed, and spoiled the painting.
"The only criticism that I should dare to make, if you will allow me...." said Golenishchef.
"Oh! I should be very glad .... beg you to favor me," replied Mikhaïlof, pretending to smile.
"It is that you have painted a man made God, and not God made man. However, I know that that was your intention."
"I cannot paint any Christ that is not in my heart," replied Mikhaïlof, gloomily.
"Yes, but in that case, excuse me, if you will allow me to express my thought.... Your painting is so beautiful, that this observation can do it no harm; and, besides, it is my own individual opinion. You look on this in one way. Your very motive is peculiar. Take Ivanof, for example,—I imagine that if the Christ is to be reduced to the proportions of an historical figure, then it would be better for him to choose a new historical theme,—one less hackneyed."
"But suppose this theme is the grandest of all for art?"
"By searching, others may be found just as grand. But the fact is, art, in my estimation, cannot suffer discussion; now this question is raised in the minds of believers or non-believers by Ivanof's painting: Is that God, or not God? and thus the unity of the impression is destroyed."
"Why so? It seems to me that this question can no longer exist for enlightened men," replied Mikhaïlof.
Golenishchef was not of this opinion; and, dwelling on his first thought about the unity of the impression required by art, he made an onslaught on Mikhaïlof.
Mikhaïlof grew excited, but could not say anything in defense of his ideas.
