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In the middle of the night following Charles I's execution, Oliver Cromwell stood over the coffin, peering down at the body to which the severed head had been surgically reattached, and is reported to have muttered the words 'cruel necessity'. 2 Whether or not this report -from a very distraught and highly partial observer, with an uncertain oral history before it was written down -is true, these words are, we shall suggest, precisely the words that would have been passing through his mind. Cromwell was, we shall argue, at once a bitter opponent of Charles, a reluctant regicide, and a firm monarchist. To understand how this can be so, and how he attempted to square circles in his own mind and in the making of public policy, we need to look with renewed care at his recorded words and actions over a period of some 15 months from the time of the Putney Debates to the final show trial.This paper argues that Oliver Cromwell 'fell out of love' with Charles I no later than 1 November 1647 but that it took him a lot longer to decide quite how and when he was to be removed from power and to decide what the implications of Charles' deposition and/or execution were for the future of the monarchy. In doing so, it takes sides in perhaps the greatest single contention in modern scholarship about Cromwell. It does not question, but rather embraces, the near consensus that has acquitted him of the charges of hypocrisy, double-dealing and a craving for power levelled against him by almost all his contemporaries. His sincerity and his deep religious faith are now widely accepted. There may have been a strong capacity for selfdeception in his make-up, but not a calculating policy of deceiving others. However, this paper does come up against a more sharply divided modern historiography about his actions and motives from the autumn of 1647 to 1 January 1649 than for any other period in his career.1 This essay is based on extensive discussion between the two authors. It was fully written by John Morrill on the basis of these discussions and then subjected to revision and redraft after further debate between the authors. 2 The words were later recalled by the Earl of Southampton and are printed in Joseph Spence,

There is no clearer image of the pretensions of absolutism than that contained in this description by La Bruyere of the courtiers in the royal chapel at Versailles: The great persons of the nation assemble each day in a temple that they call a church. At the far end of this temple stands an altar consecrated to their God, where a priest celebrates the mysteries they call holy, sacred and fearful. The great ones form a huge circle at the foot of this altar and stand erect, their backs turned to the priest and the holy mysteries, their faces lifted towards their king who is seen kneeling in a gallery, and on whom they seem to be concentrating all their hearts and spirits. One cannot help but see in this custom a sort of subordination, for the people appear to be worshipping their prince while he in turn, worships God.' Absolutism is the most irrational of governments. It denied itself access to the corporatist, paternalistic strength of medieval kingship and the populist, nationalistic royalty of the nineteenth century. It was also the most profoundly ahistorical of all systems. Louis XIV created royally sponsored academies to shape and politicize cultural activities, to put them at the service of the state (music, dance, inscriptions, etc). No such academy was established devoted to the study 1 Quoted by Levron in Hatton (ed.), Louis XIV and absolutism, p. 134. 96. SELWYN COLLEGE J. S. MORRILL CAMBRIDGE 32 Levron's article, an extract from his book Les courtisans (Paris, i960), is in Hatton, Louis XIV and absolutism. 33 See the article by Rule in Kierstead, State and society. 34 See the article by Temple in Kierstead, State and society, also Briggs, Early modern France, PP-47-54-35 See the article by Bernard in Kierstead, State and society.