Bartolomé Estevan, the greatest ecclesiastical painter of Spain, was the son of Gaspar Estévan and Maria Pérez, and was born at Seville in 1617. In accordance with a frequent Andalusian custom, he assumed the surname of his maternal grandmother, Elvira Murillo, in addition to that of his father. His parents having been struck with the precocious sketches with which the boy was accustomed to adorn whatever available surface came in his way, wisely resolved to place him under the care of their relative, Juan del Castillo, the painter. Juan taught him all the mechanical parts of his profession with extreme care, and Murillo proved himself an apt and docile pupil. The artistic appliances of his master's studio were by no means abundant, and were often of the simplest kind. A few casts, some stray fragments of sculpture, and a lay figure, formed the principal aids available in those days for the Sevillian student of art. A living model was a luxury generally beyond the means of the school; but on great occasions the indefatigable youths would strip in turn, and lend an arm or a leg to be studied by their fellows. Objects of still life, however, were much studied by Murillo, and he early learned to hit off, with genial humour, the ragged urchins of Seville pursuing their adventures in the market-place. Murillo in a few years painted as well as his master, and equally as stiff. His two pictures of the Virgin, executed during this period, show how thoroughly he had mastered the style of his instructor, with all its defects. Castillo, however, although not a first-rate artist, was a very kind man, and his removal to Cadiz in 1639-40 threw his favourite pupil entirely upon his own resources. The fine school of Zurbaran was too expensive for the poor lad: his parents were either dead or too poor to help him; and he was compelled to earn his bread by painting rough pictures for the Feria or public fair of Seville. The religious daubs exposed at that mart were generally of as low an order as the prices paid for them by their rude purchasers. A pintura de la feria (a picture of the fair) was a proverbial expression for an excrably bad one; yet the street painters who thronged the market-place with their "clumsy saints and unripe Madonnas," not unfrequently rose to be able and even famous artists. This rough-and-ready practice of the market-place doubtless increased Murillo's manual dexterity; but if we may judge from the picture of the "Virgin and the Child," still shown in the Murillo-room at Seville, as belonging to this period, he made but little improvement in colouring or in general strength of design. Struck by the favourable change which travel had wrought upon the style of his brother artist Pedro de Moya, Murillo in 1642 resolved to make a pilgrimage to Flanders or Italy in quest of further insight into the mysteries of his art. But how was he, already struggling for existence, and with a poor sister dependent on him, to raise the means necessary for such an expedition? The problem was a difficult one, but he gave it a brave solution. Having bought a large quantity of canvas, he cut it into squares of different sizes, which he converted into pictures of a kind likely to sell. The American traders at once bought up his pieces, and he now found himself sufficiently rich to carry out his much-cherished design. He placed his sister under the care of some friends, and without divulging his plans to any one, set out for Madrid. On reaching the capital, he waited on Velasquez, his fellow-townsmen, the great court painter, then at the summit of his fortune; and communicating to him his simple story, asked for some introduction to friends at Rome. The great artist liked what he saw of the manly youth, and in the noblest manner offered him lodging in his own house, and proposed to procure him admission to the royal galleries of the capital. Murillo accepted the generous offer, and here enjoyed the masterpieces of Italy and Flanders without travelling beyond the walls of Madrid. The next two years were chiefly spent in copying from Ribera, Vandyck, and Velasquez; and in 1644 he so greatly astonished the latter with some of his efforts, that they were submitted to the inspection of the King and the court. His patron now earnestly entreated him to go to Rome, and offered him letters to smooth his way; but Murillo, from whatever cause, preferred returning to his sister and to his native Seville.

The friars of the convent of San Francisco in Seville had about this time piously determined to adorn the walls of their small cloister in a manner worthy of their patron saint. The idea was a good one, but the brotherhood had no money; and after endless begging, they still found themselves incapable of employing an artist of name to execute the task. Murillo was needy, and offered his services; and after duly balancing their own poverty against his obscurity, the good friars ruefully shook their heads, and bade him begin. Like the rest of their fellow-mortals, they were but short-sighted, and little dreamt of the fame which was in store for the little cloister of Saint Francis. Murillo covered its walls with eleven large pictures of remarkable power and beauty,—displaying by turns the rich, strong colouring of Ribera, the life-like accuracy and truthfulness of detail of Velasquez, and the heavenly sweetness of Vandyck. Among them were to be found representations of San Francisco, of San Diego, of Santa Clara, and of San Gil. These pictures were executed in his earliest style, commonly called his frío, or cold style. It was, according to Ford, based on Ribera and Caravaggio, and was dark, with a decided outline. This rich collection is no longer to be met with at Seville. Sold, that ruthless plunderer of churches and hospitals, carried off ten of them, and Mr Ford is now in possession of the eleventh. The fame of these striking productions soon got abroad, and *El Claustro Chico* swarmed daily with artists and critics. Murillo was no longer friendless and unknown. The rich and the noble of proud and opulent Seville overwhelmed him with their commissions and their praises. He found that, after all, the distance was not so great between the squalid Feria and the temple of Fame. But genius has always a curious art of discovering the shortest road to eminence.

In 1648 Murillo married a rich and noble lady, Doña Beatriz de Cabrera y Sotomayor, of the neighbourhood of Seville, and his house soon became the favourite resort of artists and connoisseurs. About this time he painted the well-known "Flight into Egypt," and shortly afterwards changed his earliest style of painting for his *calido*, or warm style. His drawing was still well defined, but his outlines became softer, his figures rounder, and his colouring gained in warmth and transparency. His first picture of this style, according to Cean Bermudez, was a representation of "Our Lady of the Conception," and was painted in 1652 for the brotherhood of the True Cross, for which he received 2500 reals (L.26). In 1655 he executed his two famous paintings of San Leandro and San Isidoro, at the order of Don Juan Federigo, Archdeacon of Carmona, which are now to be seen in the cathedral of Seville. These are two noble portraits, finished with great care and admirable effect, but the critics complain of the figures being rather short. His next picture, "The Nativity of the Virgin," painted for the Chapter, is regarded as one of the most delightful specimens of his *calido* style. In the following year (1656) the same body gave him an order for a large picture of "San Antonio de Padua," for which he received 10,000 reals (L.104). This is one of his most celebrated performances, and still hangs in the baptistery of the cathedral. It was, however, "repaired" in 1833, which of course did not improve it. The grandeur of the design, however, and the singular richness of the colouring, may still be traced. The same year saw him engaged on four large pictures of a semicircular form, designed by his fast friend and patron, Don Justino Neve y Yevenes, to adorn the walls of the church of Santa María la Blanca. The first two were meant to illustrate the history of the festival of "Our Lady of the Snow." The one represents the wealthy but childless Roman senator and his lady asleep and dreaming; the other exhibits the devout pair relating their dream to Pope Liberius. Of these two noble paintings, the Dream is the finest, and in it is to be noticed for the first time the commencement of his third and last style, known as the *vaporoso*, or vapoury. Here the well-marked outlines and careful drawing of his former styles disappear; the outlines are lost in the misty blending of the light and shade, and the general finish betrays more haste than was usual with Murillo. Want of time may have had much to do with it, as in the case of our own Turner and Wilkie. After many changes of fortune, these two pictures now hang in the Academy of San Fernando at Madrid. The remaining pieces executed for this small church were, "A Virgin of the Conception," and a figure of "Faith." "That well-known French dealer," Soult, laid his hands on these also, and they have not been recovered.

In 1658 Murillo undertook and consummated a task which had hitherto baffled all the artists of Spain, and even royalty itself. This was the establishing of a public academy of art. By superior tact and good temper he overcame the vanity of Valdés Leal and the presumption of the younger Herrera, and secured their co-operation. The Academy of Seville was accordingly opened for the first time on the 1st of January 1660, and Murillo and Herrera the Second were chosen presidents. The former continued to direct it during the following year; but the calls of his studio induced him to leave it, now flourishing and prosperous, in other hands.

Passing over some half-length pictures of saints, and a charming dark-haired "Madonna," painted in 1668 for the chapter-room of the cathedral of his native city, we enter upon the most splendid period of Murillo's splendid career. In 1661 Don Miguel Mañara Vicentelo de Leca, who had recently turned to a life of sanctity from one of the wildest profligacy, resolved to raise money for the restoration of the dilapidated Hospital de la Caridad, of whose pious guild he was himself a member. Mañara commissioned his friend Murillo to paint eleven pictures for this edifice of San Jorge. Three of these pieces presented "The Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin," "The Infant Saviour," and "The Infant St John." The remaining eight also treat of scriptural scenes and subjects, and are considered Murillo's masterpieces. They consist of "Moses striking the Rock," the "Return of the Prodigal," "Abraham receiving the Three Angels," "The Charity of San Juan de Dios," the "Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes," "Our Lord healing the Paralytic," "St Peter released from Prison by the Angel," and "St Elizabeth of Hungary." These works occupied the artist four years, and in 1674 he received for his eight great pictures 78,115 reals, or about L.800. The "Moses," the "Loaves and Fishes," and the "San Juan," are still to be found at Seville; but the French carried off the rest. On these pictures Murillo evidently expended all his strength, and he has left in them an enduring monument of the grandeur of his genius. For compass and vigour the "Moses" stands first; but the "Prodigal's Return," and the "St Elizabeth," are said by Bermudez to have been the most perfect of all as works of art. They can never, however, display the same excellences elsewhere as when hanging in the light and position which the artist designed them to occupy. The front of this famous hospital was also indebted to the genius of Murillo. Five large designs in blue glazed tiles were executed from his drawings. He had scarcely completed the splendid undertakings for this edifice, when his favourite brown-frocked Franciscans again solicited the aid of his pencil. He accordingly executed some twenty paintings for the humble little church known as the Convent de los Capuchinos. Seventeen of those Capuchin pictures are still preserved at the Museum of Seville. Of these the "Charity of St Thomas of Villanueva" is reckoned the best. Murillo himself was wont to call it "su lienzo" (his own picture). Another little piece of extraordinary merit, which once hung in this church, is the "Virgin of the Napkin," believed to have been painted on a servilleta, and presented to the cook of the Capuchin brotherhood as a memorial of the artist's pencil.

In 1670 Murillo is said to have declined an invitation to court, preferring to labour among the brown coats of Seville. Eight years afterwards, his friend the Canon Justino again employed him to paint three pieces for the Hospital de los Venerables. They were severally the "Mystery of the Immaculate Conception," "St Peter Weeping," and "The Blessed Virgin." The last mentioned is said by Mr Townsend, an eminent critic, to be the most charming of all the works of this artist. (Journey through Spain in 1786-7, vol. iii., p. 297.) As a mark of esteem, he next painted a full-length portrait of his patron the Canon Neve, in which all the artist's skill is visible. The sleek spaniel reposing at the feet of the priest has been known before now to call forth a snarl from a living dog as lie approached it. His portraits generally, though few, are of great beauty. Towards the close of his life Murillo executed a series of pictures illustrative of the life of "the glorious doctor" for the Augustine convent at Seville. This brings us to the last work of this great artist. Mounting a scaffolding one day at Cadiz to execute the higher parts of a large picture of the "Espousals of St Catherine," on which he was engaged for the Capuchins of that town, he stumbled, and fell so violently, that he received a hurt from which he never recovered. The great picture was left unfinished, and the artist returned to his beloved Seville only to die. He died as he had lived, a humble, pious, brave man, on the 3rd of April 1682. He left behind him two sons and a daughter, his wife having died before him. His body was laid in the church of Santa Cruz, and by his own desire was covered with a stone slab bearing his name, a skeleton, and the words "Fide moriturus." Soult and his Vandals sacked this church, and nought is to be seen of it now but a heap of rubbish. Digging through this heap in 1823, the Sevillians found a quantity of bones in a vault, which they piously closed up again. Let us hope that no foot stirs rudely that mound of ruins where rest the ashes of Murillo.

If Velasquez holds the first place as the Spanish court painter,—as the delineator of masculine and intellectual subjects,—Murillo has the undoubted pre-eminence as the religious artist,—as the painter of female and infantine grace. Of the old masters, and of what is called the antique, Murillo knew little. He painted only what he saw; and hence all his works are intensely Spanish. His representations of his favourite subject, "The Immaculate Conception," stand unrivalled for grace and feeling; and hence the epithet often applied to him of "El Pintor de las Concepciones." As a painter of landscapes he stands next to Velasquez among Spanish artists. Sir David Wilkie, in comparing these two great painters, remarks, "Velasquez, by his high technical excellence, is the delight of all artists; Murillo, adapting the higher subjects of art to the commonest understanding, seems of all painters the most universal favourite." (Life of Wilkie, vol. ii., p. 475.) (For further information respecting Murillo and his works, consult, especially, Stirling's Annals of the Artists of Spain, 3 vols., London, 1848; and the Handbook for Spain, by Richard Ford, London, 1855. For Murillo's position in the history of art, see Fine Arts, and Painting.)