This was but one example of the numerous collisions between Parliament and the law, resulting from the former's rigid insistence upon bygone privileges, and the difficulty of settling which questions should be left to the arbitrament of either authority. If matters were left to the decision of the Commons, it is clear that everything would probably be brought within the scope of privilege; if to courts of law, all privilege would possibly be abolished. Some thought the former alternative was the least to be feared. "While men are but men," said Lord Jeffrey, "we must be at the mercy of a fallible and irresponsible despotism at best; and if we have to choose, as in an open question, few would hesitate to say that they would rather have the House of Commons for a despot than the courts of law."[272] But the matter became ridiculous when Parliament insisted on interfering in questions which it had clearly no right to decide. In 1721, for instance, the House of Commons committed the proprietors of a paper called "Mist's Journal" to Newgate for publishing an article favouring the restoration of the Pretender. This could scarcely be considered a breach of privilege, but the House thought itself empowered to deal with all political offenders. Since that time no one has been committed, except for a distinct breach of privilege, or for contempt of Parliament. The latter term, however, embraces the most trivial offences. In 1827, a stranger who was visiting the House of Lords left his umbrella in the cloak-room, by order of the attendant. On returning to claim his property at the end of the sitting, he found that his umbrella--following the universal fashion of that elusive article--had disappeared. He proceeded to bring an action against the doorkeeper, and was awarded damages amounting to £1 0_s._ 4_d._ Lord Chancellor Eldon thereupon summoned him to the bar of the Lords, and forced him, on pain of imprisonment, to refund the value of his umbrella and apologise. Four years later, the printer of "The Times" was fined £100 and sent to Newgate for having dared to call the Earl of Limerick "a thing with human pretensions." [272] Cockburn's "Life of Jeffrey," vol. ii. p. 354. The House of Lords has always considered itself empowered to inflict fines as well as imprisonment for a fixed period. When the Commons confine an offender they may put no term to his sentence, and he is released automatically on a prorogation. For the last two hundred years they have ceased to exercise the right of fining delinquents, but in early days, as we have seen, they often inflicted financial penalties, and stimulated the attendance of their own members by an inroad upon their pockets.