to see him go by. Flowers--as to the poor quality of
which it was hardly worth Lord Macaulay's while, by the way, to speak so
disparagingly--were offered for his acceptance, or strewn under his
feet. Every mark of devotion which a desperately poor country could show
was shown without stint. Accompanied by the French ambassador, amid a
group of English exiles, and advancing under a waving roof of flags and
festoons, hastily improvised in his honour, the least worthy of the
Stuarts arrived in Dublin, and took up his residence at the castle.

His sojourn there was certainly no royal bed of roses! The dissensions
between his English and his Irish followers were not only deep, but
ineffaceable. By each the situation was regarded solely from the
standpoint of his own country. Was James to remain in Ireland and to be
an Irish king? or was he merely to use Ireland as a stepping-stone to
England? Between two such utterly diverse views no point of union was
discoverable.

In the interests of his own master, D'Avaux, the French envoy, strongly
supported Tyrconnel and the Irish leaders. The game of France was less
to replace James on the English throne than to make of Ireland a
permanent thorn in the side of England. With this view he urged James to
remain in Dublin, where he would necessarily be more under the direct
control of the parliament. James, however declined this advice, and
persisted in going north, where he would be within a few hours' sail of
Great Britain. Once Londonderry had fallen (and it was agreed upon all
hands that Londonderry could not hold out much longer), he could at any
moment cross to Scotland, where it was believed that his friends would
at once rally around him.

But Londonderry showed no symptoms of yielding. In April, 1689, James
appeared before its walls, believing that he had only to do so to
receive its submission. He soon found his mistake. Lundy, its governor,
was ready indeed to surrender it into his hands, but the townsfolk
declined the bargain, and shut their gates resolutely in the king's
face. Lundy escaped for his life over the walls, and James, in disgust,
returned to Dublin, leaving the conduct of the siege in the hands of
Richard Hamilton, who was afterwards superseded in the command by De
Rosen, a Muscovite in the pay of France, who prosecuted it with a
barbarity unknown to the annals of civilized warfare.

The tale of that heroic defence has been so told that it need assuredly
neve