Part Five: Chapter 11

by Leo Tolstoy

　　On entering the studio, Mihailov once more scanned his visitorsand noted down in his imagination Vronsky's expression too, andespecially his jaws. Although his artistic sense was unceasinglyat work collecting materials, although he felt a continuallyincreasing excitement as the moment of criticizing his work drewnearer, he rapidly and subtly formed, from imperceptible signs, amental image of these three persons.

　　That fellow (Golenishtchev) was a Russian living here. Mihailovdid not remember his surname nor where he had met him, nor whathe had said to him. He only remembered his face as he rememberedall the faces he had ever seen; but he remembered, too, that itwas one of the faces laid by in his memory in the immense classof the falsely consequential and poor in expression. Theabundant hair and very open forehead gave an appearance ofconsequence to the face, which had only one expression--a petty,childish, peevish expression, concentrated just above the bridgeof the narrow nose. Vronsky and Madame Karenina must be,Mihailov supposed, distinguished and wealthy Russians, knowingnothing about art, like all those wealthy Russians, but posing asamateurs and connoisseurs. "Most likely they've already lookedat all the antiques, and now they're making the round of thestudios of the new people, the German humbug, and the crackedPre-Raphaelite English fellow, and have only come to me to makethe point of view complete," he thought. He was well acquaintedwith the way dilettanti have (the cleverer they were the worse hefound them) of looking at the works of contemporary artists withthe sole object of being in a position to say that art is a thingof the past, and that the more one sees of the new men the moreone sees how inimitable the works of the great old masters haveremained. He expected all this; he saw it all in their faces, hesaw it in the careless indifference with which they talked amongthemselves, stared at the lay figures and busts, and walked aboutin leisurely fashion, waiting for him to uncover his picture.But in spite of this, while he was turning over his studies,pulling up the blinds and taking off the sheet, he was in intenseexcitement, especially as, in spite of his conviction that alldistinguished and wealthy Russians were certain to be beasts andfools, he liked Vronsky, and still more Anna.

　　"Here, if you please," he said, moving on one side with hisnimble gait and pointing to his picture, "it's the exhortation toPilate. Matthew, chapter xxvii," he said, feeling his lips werebeginning to tremble with emotion. He moved away and stoodbehind them.

　　For the few seconds during which the visitors were gazing at thepicture in silence Mihailov too gazed at it with the indifferenteye of an outsider. For those few seconds he was sure inanticipation that a higher, juster criticism would be uttered bythem, by those very visitors whom he had been so despising amoment before. He forgot all he had thought about his picturebefore during the three years he had been painting it; he forgotall its qualities which had been absolutely certain to him--hesaw the picture with their indifferent, new, outside eyes, andsaw nothing good in it. He saw in the foreground Pilate'sirritated face and the serene face of Christ, and in thebackground the figures of Pilate's retinue and the face of Johnwatching what was happening. Every face that, with such agony,such blunders and corrections had grown up within him with itsspecial character, every face that had given him such tormentsand such raptures, and all these faces so many times transposedfor the sake of the harmony of the whole, all the shades of colorand tones that he had attained with such labor--all of thistogether seemed to him now, looking at it with their eyes, themerest vulgarity, something that had been done a thousand timesover. The face dearest to him, the face of Christ, the center ofthe picture, which had given him such ecstasy as it unfoldeditself to him, was utterly lost to him when he glanced at thepicture with their eyes. He saw a well-painted (no, not eventhat--he distinctly saw now a mass of defects) repetition ofthose endless Christs of Titian, Raphael, Rubens, and the samesoldiers and Pilate. It was all common, poor, and stale, andpositively badly painted--weak and unequal. They would bejustified in repeating hypocritically civil speeches in thepresence of the painter, and pitying him and laughing at him whenthey were alone again.

　　The silence (though it lasted no more than a minute) became toointolerable to him. To break it, and to show he was notagitated, he made an effort and addressed Golenishtchev.

　　"I think I've had the pleasure of meeting you," he said, lookinguneasily first at Anna, then at Vronsky, in fear of losing anyshade of their expression.

　　"To be sure! We met at Rossi's, do you remember, at that soireewhen that Italian lady recited--the new Rachel?" Golenishtchevanswered easily, removing his eyes without the slightest regretfrom the picture and turning to the artist.

　　Noticing, however, that Mihailov was expecting a criticism of thepicture, he said:

　　"Your picture has got on a great deal since I saw it last time;and what strikes me particularly now, as it did then, is thefigure of Pilate. One so knows the man: a good-natured, capitalfellow, but an official through and through, who does not knowwhat it is he's doing. But I fancy..."

　　All Mihailov's mobile face beamed at once; his eyes sparkled. Hetried to say something, but he could not speak for excitement,and pretended to be coughing. Low as was his opinion ofGolenishtchev's capacity for understanding art, trifling as wasthe true remark upon the fidelity of the expression of Pilate asan official, and offensive as might have seemed the utterance ofso unimportant an observation while nothing was said of moreserious points, Mihailov was in an ecstasy of delight at thisobservation. He had himself thought about Pilate's figure justwhat Golenishtchev said. The fact that this reflection was butone of millions of reflections, which as Mihailov knew forcertain would be true, did not diminish for him the significanceof Golenishtchev's remark. His heart warmed to Golenishtchev forthis remark, and from a state of depression he suddenly passed toecstasy. At once the whole of his picture lived before him inall the indescribable complexity of everything living. Mihailovagain tried to say that that was how he understood Pilate, buthis lips quivered intractably, and he could not pronounce thewords. Vronsky and Anna too said something in that subdued voicein which, partly to avoid hurting the artist's feelings andpartly to avoid saying out loud something silly--so easily saidwhen talking of art--people usually speak at exhibitions ofpictures. Mihailov fancied that the picture had made animpression on them too. He went up to them.

　　"How marvelous Christ's expression is!" said Anna. Of all shesaw she liked that expression most of all, and she felt that itwas the center of the picture, and so praise of it would bepleasant to the artist. "One can see that He is pitying Pilate."

　　This again was one of the million true reflections that could befound in his picture and in the figure of Christ. She said thatHe was pitying Pilate. In Christ's expression there ought to beindeed an expression of pity, since there is an expression oflove, of heavenly peace, of readiness for death, and a sense ofthe vanity of words. Of course there is the expression of anofficial in Pilate and of pity in Christ, seeing that one is theincarnation of the fleshly and the other of the spiritual life.All this and much more flashed into Mihailov's thoughts.

　　"Yes, and how that figure is done--what atmosphere! One can walkround it," said Golenishtchev, unmistakably betraying by thisremark that he did not approve of the meaning and idea of thefigure.

　　"Yes, there's a wonderful mastery!" said Vronsky. "How thosefigures in the background stand out! There you have technique,"he said, addressing Golenishtchev, alluding to a conversationbetween them about Vronsky's despair of attaining this technique.

　　"Yes, yes, marvelous!" Golenishtchev and Anna assented. In spiteof the excited condition in which he was, the sentence abouttechnique had sent a pang to Mihailov's heart, and lookingangrily at Vronsky he suddenly scowled. He had often heard thisword technique, and was utterly unable to understand what wasunderstood by it. He knew that by this term was understood amechanical facility for painting or drawing, entirely apart fromits subject. He had noticed often that even in actual praisetechnique was opposed to essential quality, as though one couldpaint well something that was bad. He knew that a great deal ofattention and care was necessary in taking off the coverings, toavoid injuring the creation itself, and to take off all thecoverings; but there was no art of painting--no technique of anysort--about it. If to a little child or to his cook wererevealed what he saw, it or she would have been able to peel thewrappings off what was seen. And the most experienced and adroitpainter could not by mere mechanical facility paint anything ifthe lines of the subject were not revealed to him first.Besides, he saw that if it came to talking about technique, itwas impossible to praise him for it. In all he had painted andrepainted he saw faults that hurt his eyes, coming from want ofcare in taking off the wrappings--faults he could not correct nowwithout spoiling the whole. And in almost all the figures andfaces he saw, too, remnants of the wrappings not perfectlyremoved that spoiled the picture.

　　"One thing might be said, if you will allow me to make theremark..." observed Golenishtchev.

　　"Oh, I shall be delighted, I beg you," said Mihailov with aforced smile.

　　"That is, that you make Him the man-god, and not the God-man.But I know that was what you meant to do."

　　"I cannot paint a Christ that is not in my heart," said Mihailovgloomily.

　　"Yes; but in that case, if you will allow me to say what Ithink.... Your picture is so fine that my observation cannotdetract from it, and, besides, it is only my personal opinion.With you it is different. Your very motive is different. Butlet us take Ivanov. I imagine that if Christ is brought down tothe level of an historical character, it would have been betterfor Ivanov to select some other historical subject, fresh,untouched."

　　"But if this is the greatest subject presented to art?"

　　"If one looked one would find others. But the point is that artcannot suffer doubt and discussion. And before the picture ofIvanov the question arises for the believer and the unbelieveralike, 'Is it God, or is it not God?' and the unity of theimpression is destroyed."

　　"Why so? I think that for educated people," said Mihailov, "thequestion cannot exist."

　　Golenishtchev did not agree with this, and confounded Mihailov byhis support of his first idea of the unity of the impressionbeing essential to art.

　　Mihailov was greatly perturbed, but he could say nothing indefense of his own idea.