He was the brilliant statesman. He was the unparalled schemer of war. He was the impeccable genius at administration. He made the king. All the king’s achievements were naught but for him.
He was the brain. The king, the face, the mask, of administration. All was well until desire raised its ugly head and he wanted to be the face, the mask, too. He desired to be both the king and the prime minister. A wonder, the power of desire. A pity, how the wisest succumb. Does Tantalus not need to despair?