They were admirable; they gave utterance to the promptings of ardent faith; but they had not had the specific culture which is practised only in the silence and peace of the cloister.

Hence they could not cross the threshold of the seraphic realm where roamed the guileless being who never opened his eyes, closed in prayer, excepting to paint--the monk who had never looked out on the world, who had seen only within himself.
And what we know of his life is worthy of this work.

He was a humble and tender recluse, who always prayed or ever he took up his brush, and could not draw the Crucifixion without melting into tears.
Through the veil of his tears his angelic vision poured itself out in the light of ecstasy, and he created beings that had but the semblance of human creatures, the earthly husk of our existence, beings whose souls soared already far from their prison of flesh.

Study his picture attentively, and see how the incomprehensible miracle works of such a sublimated state of mind.
The types chosen for the Apostles and Saints are, as we have said, quite ordinary.

But gaze firmly at the countenances of these men, and you will see how little they really take in of the scene before them.