Under William and Mary this restriction was removed. Henceforth men were free not only to think, but to print and circulate their thought (subject, of course, to the law of libel and sedition). They could thus bring the government more directly before that bar of public opinion which judges all men and all institutions. 499. James II lands in Ireland (1689); Act of Attainder; Siege of Londonderry. But though William was King of England, and had been accepted as King of Scotland, yet the Irish, like the Scotch Highlanders, refused to recognize him as their lawful sovereign. The great body of Irish population was then, as now, Roman Catholic. But they had been gradually dispossessed of their hold on the land (SS159, 402, 453), and the larger part of the most desirable portion of the island was owned by a few hundred thousand Protestant colonists. On the other hand, James II had, during his reign, put the civil government and the military power in the hands of the Catholics. The Earl of Tyrconnel (S488) now raised the standard of rebellion in Ireland in the interest of the Catholics, and invited James II to come over from France (S491) and regain his throne. The Protestants of the north stood by William of Orange (S491), and thus got that name of Orangemen which they have ever since retained. James landed in Ireland in the spring (1689) with a small French force lent him by Louis XIV (S491). He established his headquarters at Dublin. Not long afterwards he issued that great Act of Attainder (1689) which summoned all who were in rebellion against his authority to appear for trial on a given day, or be declared traitors, hanged, drawn, and quartered, and their property confiscated.[1] Next, the Protestant city of Londonderry (S423) was bebesieged (1689). For more than three months it held out against shot and shell, famine and fever. [1] Attainder (S351): This act contained between two and three thousand names. It embraced all classes, from half the peerage of Ireland to tradesmen, women, and children. If they failed to appear, they could be put to death without trial. The starving inhabitants, exceeding thirty thousand in number, were finally reduced to the last extremities. Nothing was left to eat but a few miserable horses and some salted hides. As they looked into each other's hollow eyes, the question came, Must we surrender? Then it was that an aged clergyman, the venerable George Walker, one of the governors of the city, pleaded with them, Bible in hand, to remain firm. That appeal carried the day. They declared that rather than open the gates to the enemy, they would perish of hunger, or, as some voice whispered, that they would fall "first on the horses and the hides,--THEN ON THE PRISONERS,--then--ON EACH OTHER!" But at this moment, when all hope seemed lost, a shout of triumph was heard. An English force had sailed up the river, broken through all obstructions, and the valiant city was saved.