If General Lambert had been able to prove himself the possessor of abilities equal to his ambition, Dr. Petty would probably have not unwillingly seen him succeed to the position of Protector, for Lambert was himself the friend of science and a patron of learning. Even if Bradshaw, a very different character, had been able to grasp the Presidency of the Council with the stubborn obstinacy from which Cromwell had evidently more than once apprehended possible danger to himself, Dr. Petty might perhaps have considered the administration at least placed in safe hands; but Bradshaw had just died, despairing of the prospect, amid the quarrels of his own friends and the violence of the rival generals, whose appeals to brute force it was as usual sought to justify as a particular call of Divine Providence. He had sat at the head of the Council of State when, in April 1653, Harrison and Lambert announced the dissolution of the Long Parliament, and his own dismissal. 'Sirs,' he had said on that memorable occasion to the intruding officers, 'we have heard what you did at the House in the morning, and before many hours all England will hear of it. But, Sirs, you are mistaken to think that the Parliament is dissolved; for no power under Heaven can dissolve them but themselves. Therefore take you notice of that.'[1] Since then six weary years had gone by: years spent in vain efforts to find a permanent basis of administration and government. Now at length Bradshaw had seen the desire of his eyes. The legitimate Parliament was restored and he sat once more in the chair of the reinstated Council of State. And all for what? Merely to see a vulgar repetition in October 1659 of the scenes enacted in April 1653. The struggle was evidently over. Weak and attenuated with illness, yet 'animated by his ardent zeal and constant affection for the common cause,' the old President with difficulty made his way to Whitehall, for the approaches were interrupted. He found Colonel Sydenham invoking the finger of the Almighty as visible in the recent attack of the soldiery on Parliament. 'I am now going to my God,' Bradshaw fiercely retorted, 'and I have not patience to hear His
- ↑ Ludlow's Memoirs, i. 357.
