After discovering in the so-called superior men of the Restoration
their utter inferiority in comparison with the events which had
brought them to the front, he overcame their political mediocrity by
putting into their mouths, at a crisis, the word of command for which
men of real talent were listening. It must not be thought that this
word was the outcome of his own mind. Were it so, des Lupeaulx would
have been a man of genius, whereas he was only a man of talent. He
went everywhere, collected opinions, sounded consciences, and caught
all the tones they gave out. He gathered knowledge like a true and
indefatigable political bee. This walking Bayle dictionary did not
act, however, like that famous lexicon; he did not report all opinions
without drawing his own conclusions; he had the talent of a fly which
drops plumb upon the best bit of meat in the middle of a kitchen. In
this way he came to be regarded as an indispensable helper to
statesmen. A belief in his capacity had taken such deep root in all
minds that the more ambitious public men felt it was necessary to
compromise des Lupeaulx in some way to prevent his rising higher; they
made up to him for his subordinate public position by their secret
confidence.

Nevertheless, feeling that such men were dependent on him, this
gleaner of ideas exacted certain dues. He received a salary on the
staff of the National Guard, where he held a sinecure which was paid
for by the city of Paris; he was government commissioner to a secret
society; and filled a position of superintendence in the royal
household. His two official posts which appeared on the budget were
those of secretary-general to his ministry and Master of petitions.
What he now wanted was to be made commander of the Legion of honor,
gentleman of the bed-chamber, count, and deputy. To be elected deputy
it was necessary to pay taxes to the amount of a thousand francs; and