He had accepted an office which sounder lawyers shrank from undertaking, and had entitled himself to the gratitude of those who, by compassing the death of the King, sought to accomplish their own ambitious ends; and it must be admitted that those who benefited by his daring were neither slow nor niggardly in rewarding him for his services to the “cause,” for never was a royal favourite so suddenly raised to a position of power, and wealth, and consequence, and never was monarch more lavish in the favours bestowed upon a courtier than was the newly-appointed Government in doing honour to and enriching its legal chief. The Deanery House at Westminster was given as a residence to him and his heirs, and a sum of £5,000 allowed to procure an equipage suitable to his new sphere of life, and such as the dignity of his office demanded. “The Lord President of the High Court of Justice,” writes Clarendon, “seemed to be the greatest magistrate in England. And, though it was not thought seasonable to make any such declaration, yet some of those whose opinion grew quickly into ordinances, upon several occasions declared that they believed that office was not to be looked upon as necessary _pro hac vice_ only, but for continuance, and that he who executed it deserved to have an ample and liberal estate conferred upon him for ever.” As his office did not expire with the King’s trial, Parliament on the 6th February allowed him to appoint a deputy to supply his place at Guildhall, where he had sat as judge, and on the 14th of the same month, when Parliament made provision for the exercise of the executive authority by the appointment of a Council of State, he was selected by the House as one of the thirty-eight members. Of this body Bradshaw was chosen president, and his kinsman, John Milton, Latin secretary. At the first meeting (March 10), if we are to believe our old friend Whitelocke, he seemed “but little versed in such business,” and spent much of the time in making long speeches. Two days afterwards he was appointed Chief Justice of Wales, but he did not go there immediately, for on the 20th of the same month he sat again as Lord President of the Council, at whose discussions it would seem he was not disposed to remain a mere passive instrument, for, as Whitelocke remarks, he “spent much of their time in urging his own long arguments, which are inconvenient in State matters.” “His part,” as he adds, “was only to have gathered the sense of the council, and to state the question, not to deliver his own opinion.”