244 Recollections of Scenes a7id Cities. [[Sept. 



evidently shewing that he felt himself in the presence of something su- 

 perior. He motioned me to sit down, and then withdrawing the cur- 

 tain from the window, pointed to the wall. There hung two pictures — 

 Murillo's — of the most glorious days of Murillo. One represented what 

 I had never before seen transferred to canvass — the " Young Man" v/ho 

 " went away sorrowful." Alurillo had made the countenance of Christ 

 as sorrowful as that of the young man, and yet, how different was the 

 sorrow ; the one, heavenly sorrow, pity for the loss of a soul — the other, 

 worldly sorrow, that to gain entrance into Heaven earthly possessions 

 were to be sacrificed. Never can I forget the expression of that Christ; 

 it possessed, in an extraordinary degree, that for which JMurillo is dis- 

 tinguished above all other painters — the power of blending the human 

 ■with the divine character. With the " love toward men" which ap- 

 peared in the expression of the Deity, was mingled that human sympathy 

 with our infirmities, which He, as partaking our nature, may be sup- 

 posed to have felt, when the " young man" rejected Heaven because 

 " he had great possessions." The other picture was of a different cha- 

 racter. It represented a iMagdalen. There again what genius is 

 needed ! for there, too. Heaven and earth must be blended. It is no 

 less difficult to paint a repentant sinner than a fallen angel. Human pas- 

 sions were there, but they were dethroned ; earth was there, but Hea- 

 ven more ; an angel, and yet a woman — a sinner, and yet a saint. It 

 was indeed a picture ! The old Spaniard spoke not a word while I 

 looked at his pictures. Nearly an hour passed without a syllable being 

 exchangetl, and when at the door, I thanked him for the delightful 

 hour I had spent, he said, " Tell them in England and France, that in 

 spite of their robbery and bribery, Seville has the best 3Iurillos yet." 

 I gave the promise, which I now redeem. Seville has the best IMurillos 

 yet. For this, I will vouch ; notwithstanding the collections of Earl 

 this, and Mr. that, and the Louvre, and the Dulwich Gallery beside. 

 I would not give the old clothesman's Magdalen for all the Murillos in 

 England. 



I conclude these sketches with one very brief reminiscence of Sardi- 

 nia. I took my passage in an English vessel from Port jMahon to Civita 

 Vechia. About six o'clock the third evening, for the airs had been light, 

 and our progress slow, we dropped anchor under the north-west coast 

 of Sardinia. Our water had proved bad ; and a boat and four seamen 

 were sent on shore to endeavour to procure a fresh supply. The boat 

 returned a little after dai-k, with only three seamen — one was missing ; 

 they could give no other account of him than that he had separated fi'om 

 the rest, and that they had waited two hours for his return. Many fears 

 were entertained of hi? safety, and it was resolved that next morning 

 the greater part of the crew sliould go in search of him, and I deter- 

 mined to accompany the party. A more lovely morning never dawned 

 upon tlie Slediterranean than when our boat rowed under the shadow of 

 the great rocks, and ran vip the little creek on the shore of which we 

 landed. It was not yet sunrise ; all was deep tranquillity, disturbed by 

 nothing but the plash of our oars. We climbed up among the tangled 

 shrubs and wild olives, and soon reached the general level above the 

 coast. Here a rugged country presented itself, deep dells and rocky 

 heights, covered in many parts with wood of various kinds, and with a 

 thick matting of heaths and wild thyme. No village or house was 

 visible. We separated into three parties, and that which I accompanied 



