The Spanish school may be said to hold a middle place between the schools of Italy and Flanders. The most natural and the most indigenous style it can boast is, unquestionably, that of Murillo, who was never out of Spain; and although it is true that he formed his manner, in a great degree, from the study of Ribera and Vandyck, the principles of those painters are so different, that it would be difficult to recognise either model in a union of the two. But Murillo superadded much that was his own, and much that was immediately, and somewhat too indiscriminately, derived from the observation of nature. The artists of the school of Seville, of which Murillo is the chief, were generally called naturalistas, as opposed to those who followed the Italian purity of taste in design, invention, and imitation. Although it is hardly safe to class all the professors of one province under a particular designation, the earlier school of Valencia may be considered the rival of the naturalistas: its Italian character is to be traced from Vincent Juanes, who was compared by Palomino to Raffaelle; in Ribalta, a work by whom, it is said, was mistaken in Rome for a performance of Raffaelle’s; in Jacinto GerÓnimo di Espinosa, by Cean Bermudez called a second Domenichino; and in Pedro Orrente and Luis Tristan, who imitated Bassano and Titian. The appearance in Italy of the fac-similists and tenebrosi (corresponding with the Spanish naturalistas, with whom they are connected by Ribera’s imitation of Caravaggio) is considered, with some reason, to have hastened the decline of painting in that country; in Spain and Flanders, on the other hand, the art which had before been a feeble or mannered imitation of the best Italian works, then only began to be great when the style of the naturalistas was introduced. The practice of the Sevillian painters in copying objects of still life as a preparatory study, was probably derived from the Netherlands, and this style again, which was ominous of degradation and decay in Italy, was the cause of much of the excellence of the Andalusian painters. The taste of these painters, in short, was for individual nature; a taste which was in some degree, and in spite of themselves, corrected by their being almost exclusively employed in painting for churches. The arts in Spain, from their earliest introduction, have been devoted to religion; nor is it to be wondered that this should be the case in a country which seems to have considered itself in an especial manner the representative of Catholicism, a natural consequence, perhaps, of its defending the outposts of Christendom from the infidels. The representation of the human figure is strictly forbidden by the Koran, and there can be no doubt that the spirit of opposition was manifested in this point, as in every other, by the antagonists of the Moors. The conquest of Granada at the close of the fifteenth century happens to correspond with the beginning of the great Æra of art in Italy, but the demand for altar-pieces in Spain, before and after that time, is proved by a constant influx of Italian, Flemish, and even German painters; a fact which is commonly explained by the wealth which flowed or was expected to flow into the country by the discovery of America about the same period. However this may be, so late as the seventeenth century, when painting may be supposed at length to have been appreciated for itself, and to have been applied to the ends of general cultivation, as the handmaid of history and poetry, it is a curious fact that neither Roelas, Castillo, nor Murillo, not to mention earlier names, ever painted a mythologic or merely historic subject. From the sublimest mysteries of the church, and from themes demanding more than ordinary elevation, the Sevillian painters turned with eagerness to the homely materials of modern miracles, and from these descended only to indulge their fondness for indiscriminate imitation. The pictures of Beggar Boys by which Murillo is perhaps most known in this country, come under the class of subjects and display the mode of treatment which a school of mere copyists of nature would prefer. Some works of this kind, however, attributed to Murillo, and possessing great merit, are said, with probability, to be the work of NuÑez de Villavicencio, his pupil. It was, however, precisely such studies as these, which enabled Murillo and his contemporaries to infuse into their religious subjects that powerful reality which was among the means of naturalizing the art in Spain, and which thus produced a new style, uniting sometimes the dignity of the Italian School with the truth and vivacity of Flemish imitation.

BartolomÉ Esteban Murillo is supposed by the writers who follow Palomino, among whom Cumberland is one, to have been born at Pilas, a town five leagues west of Seville, in the year 1613; but the discovery of the memorial of his baptism in Seville, with every proof of identity, shows that he was born in that city, January 1, 1618. His early fondness for drawing induced his parents to place him with Juan del Castillo, a designer of some merit, although not remarkable as a colourist. The gentle manners and good education of Murillo soon recommended him to his master, who appears to have preferred him to his other scholars, among whom were Pedro de Moya, and Alonzo Cano; but this preference did not exempt the favourite from the servile offices of grinding colours, preparing canvasses, and all the mechanical preparations which the Spanish painters considered an essential part of an artist’s education. It appears that the schools of Seville generally were deficient in casts from the antique: and in investigating the structure of the human frame, the studies of the artists were chiefly limited to an anatomical figure by Becerra, a sculptor who had returned to Spain early in the sixteenth century, from the school of M. Angelo. The living model was, however, constantly referred to, and the fellow-students of Murillo were in the habit of sitting to each other for portions of figures that were wanted, when they could not afford to pay hired models. It was also the custom of the schools to study drapery arranged on the mannequin, or lay-figure, by the master. It was more usual to paint than to draw from the figures, but no student was permitted to copy the model thus till he had attained dexterity with the brush by imitating objects of still life: a practice which accounts for the number of well-painted Spanish pictures of this class. Such pictures, often representing eatables with kitchen utensils, are known by the general name of Bodegones. Herrera el Mozo was called by the Italians “Lo spagnuolo de’ pesci,” from his skill in painting fish, and Pedro de Camprobin equalled the best masters in fruit and flowers. Velasquez and Murillo, it is said, acquired their power of execution from their early practice in this kind of imitation. The mode of copying the human figure was dictated by these preliminary studies; freedom of hand, a disdain of minuteness more than compensated by powerful effects, indifference as to selection, and consequently, a very moderate degree of beauty of form, distinguish the Spanish naturalistas. About the time Murillo began his career, the school of Seville was rapidly advancing under the influence of four distinguished masters and teachers of the art, Herrera the elder, or, to give him his Spanish appellation, Herrera el viejo, Pacheco, (under both of whom Velasquez studied), Roelas, and Castillo. The greatest emulation existed among their respective scholars; and in all public works in which the latter competed, the credit of the master was considered at stake as well as their own.

Murillo soon distinguished himself in the school of Castillo; his first commissions from public bodies were a Madonna del Rosario, with St. Domingo, painted for the college of Santo Tomas; and a Virgin, with St. Francis and other saints, for the convent of “la Regina.” In these works the artist followed, in some degree, the style of Castillo. His master having removed to Cadiz, the young painter remained without recommendation and without employment, and was compelled to do coarse altar-pictures and saints for the feria, or market, which was held once a week in the parish “Omnium Sanctorum,” and which seems to have been chiefly devoted to the commerce with South America. The paintings offered in this market, or fair, for sale, were generally the work of the most inferior artists, and the expression “pintura de feria” is still proverbially applied to pictures of the lowest class. Such was the rapidity with which these works were done, that it appears it was not uncommon for the artist to produce his saint while the purchaser was cheapening the bargain, and the Spanish writer, whose authority is chiefly followed in this memoir, goes so far as to say, that a San Onofre was presently transformed to a San Cristobal, or a Virgen del Carmen to a San Antonio, or even to the representation of the Souls in Purgatory. Better artists, however, occasionally condescended to paint such pictures, and with some augmentation of price; but even the worst performers were known, in some instances, to acquire such dexterity by this work, that very little additional study in the regular schools converted them into respectable artists. This singular mode of attaining mechanical facility must therefore be reckoned among the causes which influenced the executive style of the Sevillian painters; and Murillo, among others, no doubt benefited by his practice in the feria.

A circumstance occurred about the same time which had great influence on his life. His fellow-student, Pedro de Moya, who had accompanied the army to Flanders, conceived a great admiration for the works of Vandyck, and went to London to study under the Flemish painter, where he soon formed a style bearing a strong resemblance to that of his master. On the death of Vandyck, Moya returned to Seville, where he presently attracted the attention of his former companions by the accurate, yet powerful manner of painting which he had acquired. To Murillo the style was so new, that he determined at once to go either to Flanders or Italy, to perfect himself in the art. It was at this moment that he felt his poverty to be a serious misfortune; but, not dismayed by difficulties, he set to work afresh for his South American and West Indian patrons, and having saved a small sum of money, without communicating his intentions to any one, and without even taking leave of his sister, whom he left with an uncle, he quitted Seville for Madrid, with the intention of proceeding to Italy, at the age of twenty-four. On his arrival at the capital, he naturally waited on Diego Velasquez, who was a native of Seville and had received his professional education there; he was at this time first painter to the king (Philip IV.). To this distinguished artist Murillo opened his desire to visit Italy, and begged some letters of introduction for Rome. Velasquez received him with kindness, promised him assistance, and made him most liberal offers for his immediate advantage. Meanwhile the desire of the young painter to see the best specimens of the art was in a great measure gratified under the auspices of his new friend, by his inspection of the pictures in the Royal Palace, at Buen Retiro, and in the Escorial. He immediately expressed a wish to make copies of some of these works, and while Velasquez accompanied the King to Aragon, in the year 1642, Murillo copied some pictures by Vandyck, Spagnoleto, and Velasquez himself. These copies were shown to the King on his return by Velasquez, and were admired by all the court. The disgrace of the minister Olivarez, in 1643, was deeply felt by Velasquez, to whom the Count Duke had been a generous patron; and although it did not diminish the esteem in which the King held the painter, this circumstance seems first to have disgusted Murillo with Madrid. On the return of Velasquez from Zaragosa, in 1644, he was astonished at the progress of his scholar, and finding him sufficiently advanced to profit by a visit to Italy, he offered to procure for him letters of recommendation and other assistance from the King himself. Murillo had, however, already determined to return to Seville, influenced either by domestic considerations, or by having already satisfied the wish which first urged him to leave his native city. Velasquez regretted this resolution, imagining that the young painter would have arrived at still greater perfection if he could have studied for a time in Rome.

The first works done by Murillo after his return to Seville in 1645 were the pictures of the convent of San Francisco. The building was destroyed by fire in 1810, but several of the paintings are now in the collection of Marshal Soult. In the pictures of San Francisco, Cean Bermudez recognises an imitation of Vandyck, Ribera, and Velasquez, the three painters whom Murillo chiefly studied while at Madrid. His new works excited general attention; so little had he been known before he left Seville, and so studious and retired had been his habits, that his absence had scarcely been noticed, and his re-appearance with so masterly a style of painting astonished his fellow-citizens. The fame of Herrera, Pacheco, and Zurbaran, was at once eclipsed, and he was universally acknowledged the first painter of the Sevillian School. The obscurity in which he had lived before his visit to Madrid was now exchanged for the most flattering attentions of the powerful and wealthy, and many of the chief citizens wished to have their portraits done by him. Meanwhile he painted the Flight into Egypt, in the church de la Merced, which has been attributed to Velasquez, and other works now no longer in Spain. In 1648, he married DoÑa Beatriz de Cabrera y Sotomayor, a lady of birth and some fortune, a native of Pilas, from which circumstance, perhaps, originated the mistake of Palomino in assigning that town as the birth-place of her husband. A change in his manner of painting, adopted, as Cean Bermudez asserts, to please the public, is observable soon after this period. It succeeded in pleasing all parties, for the new manner was extolled even by the warmest admirers of the previous performances of the master. The works of Murillo may be divided into three distinct styles: the first, necessarily very different from his subsequent manner, is to be sought in the specimens which date before his departure for Madrid; the second, is that which he acquired in the capital, and is exemplified by the works above-mentioned, done immediately after his return; the third manner dates from about 1650, and the first public work which may be cited as illustrating it, is an Immaculate Conception (a subject often treated by the Spanish painters) in the convent of San Francisco, painted in 1652.

The latter and characteristic style of Murillo may be generally described as possessing more suavity, and softer transitions of light and shade, than that of the naturalistas of his time. It is remarkable, besides, for a general harmony of hues; for considerable, but by no means uniform, softness of contour; for simplicity and propriety of attitude and expression; for physiognomies, if not always distinguished by beauty or refinement, yet interesting from a certain character of purity and goodness; for free yet well-arranged drapery; for a force of light on the principal objects, and, above all, for surprising truth in the colour of the flesh, heightened by an almost constant opposition of dark-grey backgrounds. The two pictures of St. Leander and St. Isidore, in the sacristy of the Cathedral, were done in 1655. In the same year Murillo painted the Nativity of the Virgin, now in the Cathedral; and in 1656 the great picture of St. Antony of Padua, the altar-piece of the Baptistery of the same church: the picture of the Baptism of Christ in the same Retablo, or architectural frame, is also by Murillo, but by no means equal to the St. Antony. The four half circles, formerly in the church of Santa Maria la Blanca, belong to the same time, as well as a Dolorosa, and St. John the Evangelist, done for the same church. In 1658 Murillo undertook, without any aid from the government, to establish a public academy in Seville; and, after great difficulties, owing to the imperious temper of his rivals Juan de Valdes Leal and Francisco de Herrera el Mozo, who was just returned from Italy, he succeeded in his object, and the academy was opened in 1660. Murillo was the first president, but, from whatever cause, he was not re-elected to that office after the first year: the multitude of his occupations is, however, the most probable reason to be assigned for this. Although the best Spanish painters, such as Velasquez, Murillo, Zurbaran, and others, arrived at the excellence they attained without an early acquaintance with the antique, there being, as we have seen, no casts from the Greek statues in the private schools of Seville, yet, on the establishment of a public academy, it might be supposed that it would have been furnished with the best examples of form. Such, however, does not appear to have been the case: except a few drawings by the professors, which were copied by mere beginners, there were, it seems, no other models than the living figure and the draped mannequin; and when once admitted to copy from the life, the students were in the habit of confining their practice to painting, without considering that of drawing at all essential. This method of instruction was peculiar to the Academy of Seville, as distinguished from other similar establishments in Spain; and it is evident that the object was to follow up the method which had already been sufficient by itself to render the school illustrious. It may be observed that the study of drapery in this school had the effect, to a certain extent, of ennobling the style of the painters; and they were perhaps led to pay attention to this branch of the art, from so often witnessing the fine effect of drapery in the dresses of the religious orders. Sir Joshua Reynolds has somewhere justly observed, that a grand cast of drapery is sometimes of itself sufficient to give an air of dignity to a picture.

About 1668, Murillo began the celebrated series in the Hospital de San Jorge, or de la Caridad, whence came several of the pictures now in the possession of Marshal Soult. Among those that remain, the most remarkable and most copious compositions, are the Moses striking the Rock, and the miracle of the Loaves and Fishes. The Prodigal Son, Abraham receiving the Angels, the Pool of Bethesda, and the Deliverance of Peter from Prison are now in Paris; they are all excellent specimens of the master. The Picture of San Juan de Dios bearing an infirm mendicant, is celebrated for its strength of effect, and has been compared, and even attributed, to Spagnoleto. Another composition, now in Madrid, representing Santa Isabel curing the diseased poor, a wonderful specimen of imitation, was the greatest favourite of the series with the common people, when in its original place, owing, perhaps, to the very familiar and disgusting details of the subject; it was generally known by the name of el TiÑoso, from the principal figure, a boy whose sore head the Saint is dressing. The habit of copying to illusion the merest accidents of nature without distinction, naturally led the Spanish painters to all the deformities that can be excused by the epithet “picturesque.” The details of the picture just mentioned would be loathsome, even in words, yet other Sevillian painters went beyond it; and Murillo himself, on seeing a picture in which some dead bodies are painted with repulsive reality by Juan de Valdes, in the church of the Caridad, observed to that artist, that “it could only be looked at while holding the nostrils.”

Cean Bermudez remarks of the TiÑoso, that the figure of the Queen Santa Isabel (whom by the way he makes a Queen of Portugal in one of his works and a Queen of Hungary in another) is equal to Vandyck; the face of the boy illuminated by the reflection of a basin of water, worthy of Paul Veronese; and an old woman and a mendicant unbinding his leg, as fine as Velasquez. He concludes by asserting, that if instead of the numbers of copies, good, bad, and indifferent, that have been made from all the pictures of the Caridad, a series of accurate engravings after them had been executed, these compositions would be as much celebrated and admired as those of the best Italian painters. The pictures of the Caridad were finished in 1674. The Capuchin Convent is another vast gallery of the fine works of Murillo. Without reckoning smaller pieces, there are twenty pictures by his hand in the convent with figures the size of life. Among these one is said to have obtained the especial preference of the painter himself; the subject is Santo Tomas di Villanueva distributing alms. In the Nativity, Murillo has followed the artifice of Correggio, by making the light emanate from the infant: this picture is one of the best of the series. The Annunciation is remarkable for the beauty and dignity of the Angel, and for the graceful humility of the Virgin. Three pictures, done for the Hospital de los Venerables, about 1678, are mentioned by the author already quoted as admirable performances: among them the Penitence of St. Peter is described as surpassing the same subject by Ribera, and an Immaculate Conception as superior in colour and admirable management of light and shade to every similar composition by the artist himself. In the refectory of the convent is the portrait of Don Justino Neve, by whom Murillo was employed to paint the pictures just mentioned; his biographer says it is in all respects equal to Vandyck. The altar pictures of the Convent of San Agustin, and a long list of single figures of saints, some larger than life, together with many portraits of superiors of religious orders, scarcely complete the catalogue of Murillo’s public works in Seville, and it would be too long to enumerate those which exist in other parts of Spain. The pictures which he executed for private collections were almost equally numerous, and his biographer asserts, that at the beginning of the last century there was scarcely a house of respectability in Seville that was not ornamented with some work of his. They began to disappear when Philip V. and his court visited the city. Many were presented or sold to the noblemen and ambassadors who accompanied the king, and are now in galleries of Madrid and other cities of Europe. Since that time, however, several of the principal families have made their pictures heir-looms, and thus guarded, as far as possible, against a further dispersion of their countryman’s works. Murillo’s last work was the altar-piece of the Capuchins, at Cadiz, representing the Marriage of St. Catherine. While employed on this picture he fell from the scaffold; and a serious malady, which was the consequence, compelled him to return to Seville, where he soon after died, April 3, 1682. He was buried in a chapel of the Church of Santa Cruz. It was to this chapel he was in the habit of going to contemplate Campana’s picture of the Descent from the Cross; and shortly before his death, being asked by the sacristan, who wanted to shut the church, why he lingered there, he answered, “I am only waiting till these holy men shall have taken down the Lord from the Cross.” The picture of the marriage of St. Catherine was finished by Francisco MenÉses Osorio, one of the eleven scholars of Murillo enumerated by Cean Bermudez.

The short account of Murillo, in Cumberland’s “Anecdotes of eminent Painters in Spain,” is taken from the incorrect but amusing “Parnaso EspaÑol pintoresco laureado” of Palomino. A very good general and concise history of the Spanish school (though containing several errors of the press in dates), with an interesting list, not to be found elsewhere, of the early pictures of Murillo, is contained in the Foreign Quarterly Review, No. 26. There are, probably, no other English works on the subject, except in a Dictionary of Spanish Painters, not yet complete, and the incidental notices in books of travels. The foregoing account is chiefly taken from a Letter by Cean Bermudez, “Sobre el estilo y gusto en la Pintura de la Escuela Sevillana, &c. Cadiz, 1806,” published subsequently to his “Diccionario HistÓrico de los mas ilustres profesores de las Bellas Artes en EspaÑa, Madrid, 1800,” which has also been consulted.