had
been wounded came that evening. The first report was that the wound was
mortal. It was believed, and confidently repeated, that the usurper was
no more; and couriers started bearing the glad tidings of his death to
the French ships which lay in the ports of Munster. From daybreak on
the first of July the streets of Dublin were filled with persons eagerly
asking and telling news. A thousand wild rumours wandered to and fro
among the crowd. A fleet of men of war under the white flag had been
seen from the hill of Howth. An army commanded by a Marshal of France
had landed in Kent. There had been hard fighting at the Boyne; but
the Irish had won the day; the English right wing had been routed; the
Prince of Orange was a prisoner. While the Roman Catholics heard and
repeated these stories in all the places of public resort, the few
Protestants who were still out of prison, afraid of being torn to
pieces, shut themselves up in their inner chambers. But, towards five
in the afternoon, a few runaways on tired horses came straggling in with
evil tidings. By six it was known that all was lost. Soon after sunset,
James, escorted by two hundred cavalry, rode into the Castle. At
the threshold he was met by the wife of Tyrconnel, once the gay and
beautiful Fanny Jennings, the loveliest coquette in the brilliant
Whitehall of the Restoration. To her the vanquished King had to announce
the ruin of her fortunes and of his own. And now the tide of fugitives
came in fast. Till midnight all the northern avenues of the capital were
choked by trains of cars and by bands of dragoons, spent with running
and riding, and begrimed with dust. Some had lost their fire arms, and
some their swords. Some were disfigured by recent wounds. At two in the
morning Dublin was still: but, before the early dawn of midsummer, the
sleepers were roused by the peal of trumpets; and the horse, who had, on
the preceding day, so well supported the honour of their country,
came pouring through the streets, with ranks fearfully thinned, yet
preserving, even in that extremity, some show of military order. Two
hours later Lauzun's drums were heard; and the French regiments, in
unbroken array, marched into the city, [704] Many thought that, with
such a force, a stand might still be made. But, before six o'clock,
the Lord Mayor and some of the principal Roman Catholic citizens were
summoned in haste to the Castle. James took leave of them with a speech
which did him li