Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 9, No. 52, February, 1862 | Page 5

the Crucifixion
by Frà Angelico, which, whatever might be its _naïve_ faults of
drawing and perspective, had an intense earnestness of feeling, and,
though faded and dimmed by the lapse of centuries, still stirs in some

faint wise even the practised dilettanti of our day.
The face upon the cross, with its majestic patience, seemed to shed a
blessing down on the company of saints of all ages who were grouped
by their representative men at the foot. Saint Dominic, Saint Ambrose,
Saint Augustin, Saint Jerome, Saint Francis, and Saint Benedict were
depicted as standing before the Great Sacrifice in company with the
Twelve Apostles, the two Maries, and the fainting mother of
Jesus,--thus expressing the unity of the Church Universal in that great
victory of sorrow and glory. The painting was inclosed above by a
semicircular bordering composed of medallion heads of the Prophets,
and below was a similar medallion border of the principal saints and
worthies of the Dominican order. In our day such pictures are visited by
tourists with red guide-books in their hands, who survey them in the
intervals of careless conversation; but they were painted by the simple
artist on his knees, weeping and praying as he worked, and the sight of
them was accepted by like simple-hearted Christians as a perpetual
sacrament of the eye, by which they received Christ into their souls.
So absorbed was the father in the contemplation of this picture, that he
did not hear the approaching footsteps of the knight and monk. When at
last they came so near as almost to touch him, he suddenly looked up,
and it became apparent that his eyes were full of tears.
He rose, and, pointing with a mute gesture toward the painting, said,--
"There is more in that than in all Michel Angelo Buonarotti hath done
yet, though he be a God-fearing youth,--more than in all the heathen
marbles in Lorenzo's gardens. But sit down with me here. I have to
come here often, where I can refresh my courage."
The monk and knight seated themselves, the latter with his attention
riveted on the remarkable man before him. The head and face of
Savonarola are familiar to us by many paintings and medallions, which,
however, fail to impart what must have been that effect of his personal
presence which so drew all hearts to him in his day. The knight saw a
man of middle age, of elastic, well-knit figure, and a flexibility and
grace of motion which seemed to make every nerve, even to his
finger-ends, vital with the expression of his soul. The close-shaven
crown and the plain white Dominican robe gave a severe and
statuesque simplicity to the lines of his figure. His head and face, like
those of most of the men of genius whom modern Italy has produced,

were so strongly cast in the antique mould as to leave no doubt of the
identity of modern Italian blood with that of the great men of ancient
Italy. His low, broad forehead, prominent Roman nose, well-cut, yet
fully outlined lips, and strong, finely moulded jaw and chin, all spoke
the old Roman vigor and energy, while the flexible delicacy of all the
muscles of his face and figure gave an inexpressible fascination to his
appearance. Every emotion and changing thought seemed to flutter and
tremble over his countenance as the shadow of leaves over sunny water.
His eye had a wonderful dilating power, and when he was excited
seemed to shower sparks; and his voice possessed a surprising scale of
delicate and melodious inflections, which could take him in a moment
through the whole range of human feeling, whether playful and tender
or denunciatory and terrible. Yet, when in repose among his friends,
there was an almost childlike simplicity and artlessness of manner,
which drew the heart by an irresistible attraction. At this moment it was
easy to see by his pale cheek and the furrowed lines of his face that he
had been passing through severe struggles; but his mind seemed stayed
on some invisible centre, in a solemn and mournful calm.
"Come, tell me something of the good works of the Lord in our Italy,
brother," he said, with a smile which was almost playful in its
brightness. "You have been through all the lowly places of the land,
carrying our Lord's bread to the poor, and repairing and beautifying
shrines and altars by the noble gift that is in you."
"Yes, father," said the monk; "and I have found that there are many
sheep of the Lord that feed quietly among the mountains of Italy, and
love nothing so much as to hear of the dear Shepherd who laid down
His life for them."
"Even so, even so," said the Superior, with animation; "and it is