In 1603, during the reign of Philip III, Rubens, on a mission from the Duke of Mantua, visited the Spanish Court. One of the Duke’s intentions was that his emissary should copy some of the masterpieces of the Royal collection. Rubens’ copy of Titian’s _Temptation of Adam and Eve_ now hangs in the Prado, not far from the original, and it is interesting to note how the young Flemish artist has corrected and improved the composition of the old Venetian. The orders given to Rubens included a provision that he should forward his work by employing the assistance of some of the Spanish painters. He writes, saying that he will adhere to these instructions, but, he adds, “I do not approve of it, considering the short time we have at our disposal, and the incredible inadequacy and idleness of these painters and their manners, (from which may God preserve me from any resemblance!) so absolutely different to mine.” Such was Rubens impression of art in Madrid, preceding the appearance of Velasquez. In 1628 at the zenith of his fame, he paid another diplomatic visit. Philip IV was now king and appointed his favorite, Velasquez, escort to the Flemish artist. Of the latter’s impression of the younger man unfortunately no records exist. * * * * * Velasquez maintained no regular studio for pupils, yet he naturally exercised an influence on many of the younger painters of the day, and actually gave instruction to some. Among the latter the best known are Juan Bautista Martinez del Mazo and Juan Carreño, who will be considered later, and Juan de Pareja. The last mentioned was a mulatto, born in Seville about 1608, who came to Madrid with Velasquez in the capacity of a servant and remained with him all his life. Being constantly employed in the studio, he was himself inspired to become an artist; but as no slave might practise the free art of painting he worked in secret, copying his master’s works. At last by a stratagem he revealed his talent. Having painted a picture with special care, he placed it in his master’s studio with its face to the wall. The king, on his next visit, ordered the picture to be turned and enquired who had painted it. Whereupon Pareja went down on his knees, and implored the royal protection. The king, turning to Velasquez, said--“you will have no say in this matter and I warn you that he who possesses so much talent cannot remain a slave.” At least such is the story, though it is considered more probable that Velasquez, whose generosity was marked, actually connived at the slave’s education and procured his enfranchisement. But, although a free man, he continued to serve his beloved master, and after the latter’s death in 1660 continued in the service of his son-in-law, Mazo, until his own death in 1670. He is represented in the Prado by the _Vocation of S. Matthew_. Christ, arrayed in the conventional draperies, is standing beside a table at