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 with the downcast figure of the monk in the foreground. The rest of Nestorov's pictures—with fascinatingly conceived landscapes replete with quiet melancholy—are full of commonplace and badly executed figures, which try hard to seem sacred and touching.

The only artist who may be looked upon as something in the nature of a continuation of Ivanov, is Vrubel. Among all the artists of the second half of the nineteenth century, who approached religious themes, only Vrubel did so with the same burning passion and the same most delicate penetration into the mysteries of beauty, which distinguish the art of Ivanov. In addition, the two artists have in common prodigious technical skill. Vrubel is not popular in Russia; he is looked upon as a mad-brained "décadent." His disease has definitely discredited him in the eyes of "reasonable" people. Yet, in reality, of all the artists of the last two decades, Vrubel alone succeeded in forging for himself a real, an amazing technique. At the same time among our artists he is the only true poet, who hovers high above the common level. A bitter life, almost ceaseless failure, the unresponsiveness of society—all this sapped Vrubel's gift and lent a strange