A good deal of his worldly success may well have been due, as
his enemies assert, to an incredible mixture of cringing, astuteness,
and impudence. It stands to reason, however, that a man of this type
must have possessed sterling qualities of his own to be found
occupying--all this was years and years ago--a suite of apartments in the
Palace, where he lived in splendour, a Power behind the Throne, the
Confidental Adviser of the Highest Circles. His monkish garb was soon
encrusted with orders and decorations, no State function was complete
without his presence, no official appointment, from the highest and
lowest sphere of government, was held to be valid without his sanction.
Red blouses, one of several keys to his favour, could be counted by
thousands. He crushed opposition with an iron hand. He wrought a
miracle or two; but what chiefly accounted for the almost divine
veneration in which he was held was a succession of lucky
prophecies--none luckier than that wherein, during one of his moments of
inspired self-abstraction, he foretold the early and violent death of
the former protector, the man to whom he owed this rise to the
pinnacles of fame.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253