A SORROWFUL PICTURE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVII, Issue XXII, 28 November 1896, Page 123

A SORROWFUL PICTURE.

When the French Cardinal Mazarin was fifty-i.ine years old he was told by hie physician that he was mortally stricken by disease, and had but two months to live. The bitterness of the sensuous cardinal at the thought of giving up all that he prized —his authority, his position, and above all his material possessions—has been wonderfully described by Brienne. One day, says Brienne, I was walking in the new apartments of Mazarin’s palace—in the small gallery in which was a piece of tapestry representing the life of Scipio. The cardinal possessed no lovelier specimen. Presently I heard some one coming, and by the sound of the slippers shuffling along the floor, I knew it was Mazarin him-elf. 1 stepped behind the piece of tapestry and heard him say, * And I must bid farewell to all thia !’ At each step he haired, tor he was very weak, and supported himself first on one limb, then on the other : and casting his eyes on whatever work of art met hie gaze, be said again and again, as from the very bottom of his heart, ' And 1 must bid farewell to all this I’ Then gazing round he added, 1 What pain- I have taken to procure all these things. How can 1 give them up! Where lam going I shall see them no more 1’ As he said this, I heaved a deep sigh, which I could not repress, and he heard me. • Who is it?’ he “aid. * Who is it ?’ •’Tie I, sir ; I was waiting for an opportunity to speak to your eminence,’

* Come nearer, nearer,’ he answered, in a voice broken by sutlering. He was in his woollen dressing-gown lined with grey squirrel, and had hie nightcap on. ‘Give me your arm,’ he said; ’I am dreadlully weak and can walk no farther.' • Your eminence would do well to be

seated a little.' eaid 1, and I started to bring him a chair. * No,’ eaid he. * no, I prefer to walk, and 1 have something to -ee to in my library,* I offered him my arm. and he leaned on it, but he would not allow me to speak to him concerning public affairs. ‘lam no longer in a condition to understand them,’ he said. Mention them to the king, and do what he bids you. I now have many other things to think of.' Presently he reverted to his original re flections. * Look, my friend, at that lovely painting by Correggio, at that Venus by Titian, at that incomparable Deluge by Antonio Caracci, for I know you love pictures and can appreciate them. Alas ! my dear friend, I must bid farewell to them all. Adieu, cherished objects that I have so much loved, and that cost ine so much to acquire. 1