Jeffreys spoke against the motion in the coarse and savage style
of which he was a master; but he soon found that it was not quite
so easy to browbeat the proud and powerful barons of England in
their own hall, as to intimidate advocates whose bread depended
on his favour or prisoners whose necks were at his mercy. A man
whose life has been passed in attacking and domineering, whatever
may be his talents and courage, generally makes a mean figure
when he is vigorously assailed,
for, being unaccustomed to stand on the defensive, he becomes
confused; and the knowledge that all those whom he has insulted
are enjoying his confusion confuses him still more. Jeffreys was
now, for the first time since he had become a great man,
encountered on equal terms by adversaries who did not fear him.
To the general delight, he passed at once from the extreme of
insolence to the extreme of meanness, and could not refrain from
weeping with rage and vexation.33 Nothing indeed was wanting to
his humiliation; for the House was crowded by about a hundred
peers, a larger number than had voted even on the great day of
the Exclusion Bill. The King, too, was present. His brother had
been in the habit of attending the sittings of the Lords for
amusement, and used often to say that a debate was as
entertaining as a comedy. James came, not to be diverted, but in
the hope that his presence might impose some restraint on the
discussion. He was disappointed. The sense of the House was so
strongly manifested that, after a closing speech, of great
keenness, from Halifax, the courtiers did not venture to divide.
An early day was fixed for taking the royal speech into
consideration; and it was ordered that every peer who was not at
a distance from Westminster should be in his place.34