The character of Murillo, as a painter, can scarcely be separated from his character as a man: humility, kindness, benevolence, were conspicuous in him; and these are also seen in the choice of his subjects. Undoubtedly one of the greatest among the many charms of Murillo, consists in the beauty of his invention; his subjects seldom fail to interest the benevolent feelings: we have affection in all its varieties--charity under its many forms; and even in subjects purely divine, he contrives to throw over them a human interest. Never was affection more touchingly delineated, than in the picture of St. Felix, the Virgin, and Child, in the Capuchin convent of Seville; in which the virgin, after having put the infant into the arms of the holy man, that he might bless him,--stretches out her own, that he may be restored to a mother’s embrace. Nor were ever love and benevolence more beautifully blended, than in the picture of “Santa Isabella, Queen of Portugal, curing the sick and wounded,” wherein the old woman watches, with a mother’s anxiety, the cure of her wounded son. And where shall we find charity, and its reward--the favour of Heaven--more impressively displayed, or more powerfully conceived, than in the picture of “John of God.” This has always seemed to me, one of the happiest illustrations of the genius of Murillo. “John of God” is supposed to have gone, as was his usual practice during the night, to seek and succour objects of distress. The picture represents the Saint, carrying on his back a wretched being, whom he had found in his walk, and bending under the weight of his burden; but suddenly, feeling himself relieved of a part of his load, he looks round, and sees by the miraculous light that encircles his heavenly visitant, that an angel has descended, to assist him in his work of charity. Innumerable examples might be given from the works of Murillo, of that peculiar charm which consists in investing spiritual subjects with a human interest. Murillo never painted a virgin and child without blending a mother’s human love, and the pride of a mother in her human child, with the expression of divinity, and with the loftier pride of having given birth to the Son of God. Nor in any representation of scenes in the life of Christ, did Murillo ever forget to unite the human with the divine character. In the great painting, also, of “Moses striking the Rock,” in the Hospital _de la Caridad_, there is a fine exemplification of the excellence of which I have been speaking. This miracle is not made a mere display of power; Murillo has introduced into it many varieties of human feeling--the anxiety of those who wait for the accomplishment of the miracle--the burning impatience, and eager importunities of thirst, and its contrasted satisfaction.