In 1593 the Emperor of Morocco applied to Philip II. for the loan of a painter, to which the latter made answer that they had in Spain two sorts of painters—­the ordinary and the excellent—­and desired to know which his infidel brother preferred.  “Kings should always have the best,” replied the Moor; and so Philip sent him Blas de Prado to Fez.  There he painted various works for the palace, and a portrait of the monarch’s daughter, to the great satisfaction of her father.  After keeping the artist several years in his service, the emperor finally sent him away, with many rich gifts; and he returned to Castile with considerable wealth.  The Academy of San Ferdinando possesses a fine work by him, representing the Virgin and Infant seated in the clouds.

DON JUAN CARRENO

This Spanish painter was a favorite with King Charles II.  He was painting his Majesty’s portrait one day in the presence of the Queen mother, when the royal sitter asked him to which of the knightly orders he belonged.  “To none,” replied the artist, “but the order of your Majesty’s servants.”  “Why is this?” said Charles.  The Admiral of Castile, who was standing by, replied that he should have a cross immediately; and on leaving the royal presence, he sent Carreno a rich badge of Santiago, assuring him that what the king had said entitled him to wear it.  Palomino says, however, that the artist’s modesty prevented him from accepting the proffered honor.  His royal master continued to treat him with unabated regard, and would allow no artist to paint him without Carreno’s permission.

CARRENO’S COPY OF TITIAN’S ST. MARGARET.

Palomino was one day in company with Carreno at the house of Don Pedro de Arce, when a discussion arose about the merits of a certain copy of Titian’s St. Margaret, which hung in the room After all present had voted it execrable, Carreno quietly remarked, “It at least has the merit of showing that no man need despair of improving in art, for I painted it myself when I was a beginner.”

CARRENO’S ABSTRACTION OF MIND.

Being at his easel one morning with two friends, one of them, for a jest, drank the cup of chocolate which stood untasted by his side.  The maid-servant removing the cup, Carreno remonstrated, saying that he had not breakfasted, and on being shown that the contents were gone, appealed to the visitors.  Being gravely assured by them that he had actually emptied the cup with his own lips, he replied, like Newton, “Well really, I was so busy that I had entirely forgotten it.”

ANECDOTE OF CESPEDES’ LAST SUPPER.