Louis had not said that without reason.
Cardinal Mazarin's intelligence agents had sent back no small amount of news from England. Oliver Cromwell could be said to have begun ruling the country exactly as he pleased. It was no surprise that he saw himself as the people's savior and God's messenger, but when a man placed himself upon such an exalted height, it also meant that he was about to fall heavily.
"It is also possible that he may become king," the bishop said. "How close he is to the throne! Even if he melted down every symbol of royal authority used for a king's coronation, from the crown to the scepter, from the orb to the coronation ring, he could forge new ones at any time, just as he forged this new England."
"That is precisely the problem, Bishop," Louis said with a sigh. "From what I have seen and learned, Cromwell is a man who considers himself—or truly is—a man devoted to simplicity and wholeheartedly to his country. But he is too obstinate. That is a common failing among many people. I mean, they believe the masses are things like wood or clay, to be carved at will and kneaded as they please. They can cut away whatever they do not want, or make them into whatever shape they desire. But that is entirely impossible.
"If Oliver Cromwell were to grow extravagant and dissolute, even committing all manner of depraved acts like Solomon, Bishop, then even if ten thousand clergymen condemned him, he would have nothing to fear. To tell the truth, just as you said, he might even become a king."
"That makes me curious," Mazarin said. "Why do you say so?"
"Although Cromwell always humbly says that his birth was neither lowly nor illustrious, we all