I. The Immaculate Conception . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece
From the Louvre, Paris
II. The Beggar Girl
From the Dulwich Gallery
III. The Holy Family
From the Louvre, Paris
IV. Madonna of the Rosary
From the Dulwich Gallery
V. The Beggar Boy
From the Dulwich Gallery
VI. A Boy Drinking
From the National Gallery, London
VII. The Nativity
From the Louvre, Paris
VIII. The Marriage of the Virgin
From the Wallace Collection
[Illustration: Murillo]
I
There have been long years in which the name of Bartolomé Esteban,
known to the world as Murillo, was one to conjure with. Velazquez, El
Greco, Ribera, Zurburan, Goya, were long uncertain in their appeal,
recognised only by the enlightened among their contemporaries and
ignored by the great majority of their fellow-countrymen. The pendulum
of taste swings slowly from one extreme to the other, and, as the moods
and needs of men change so they cast their idols into the dust, where
they remain until another generation restores what it can find to the
old pedestals. Nowadays Murillo has fallen from his high estate among
the elect; they prefer to magnify his shortcomings rather than to
acknowledge his many merits, to ignore the splendid service he rendered
to Spanish art and the profound effect of his pictures in drawing
countless simple souls within the sheltering folds of the Church. The
fifty years of his devoted labours count for nothing, the
self-searching and criticism that enabled the painter to move from a
low plane to a high one are forgotten. This is not as it should be.
Bartolomé Esteban Murillo had his limitations, but remains, despite
them all, one of the world's teachers, and such glimpses of his life as
may be seen through the shadows of some two hundred and fifty years
reveal him as a serious artist who added to splendid natural gifts a
steadfastness of purpose, a determination to do his best, a love of
Andalusia, and a devotion to the religion in which he was brought up
that must compel the admiration of thinking men however critical, and
enable the artist to stand alone. In the early years of his sojourn he
suffered from the pinch of poverty. He was born when Diego de Silva
Velazquez was just about to enter upon his splendid career, in fact,
Murillo would have been about five years old when his great
contemporary left Seville for Madrid. Perhaps if we could see with
understanding eyes we might be tempted to believe that the less
distinguished artist enjoyed the happier life, for Velazquez in the
court of kings had much to endure that never troubled the younger man
who laboured in the service of the King of kings, and may have seen
such visions as lightened the labours of Beato Angelico in the Convent
of the Dominicans of St. Anthony in Padua, and St. Francis in Assisi.
For the best of Murillo's canvases whisper to us of inspiration, of
devout belief, and of an overmastering love for the "Maria santissima,"
and when the simple-hearted painter saw that his work brought honour to
the cathedrals and convents for which he laboured he must have felt
that his art was its own exceeding great reward.
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