He then rose and was conducted to the chapel of his palace, once--such are the vicissitudes of human things--the riding house of Henry Cromwell.
A Te Deum was performed in honour of his Majesty's arrival.

The next morning he held a Privy Council, discharged Chief Justice Keating from any further attendance at the board, ordered Avaux and Bishop Cartwright to be sworn in, and issued a proclamation convoking a Parliament to meet at Dublin on the seventh of May, [179] When the news that James had arrived in Ireland reached London, the sorrow and alarm were general, and were mingled with serious discontent.
The multitude, not making sufficient allowance for the difficulties by which William was encompassed on every side, loudly blamed his neglect.
To all the invectives of the ignorant and malicious he opposed, as was his wont, nothing but immutable gravity and the silence of profound disdain.

But few minds had received from nature a temper so firm as his; and still fewer had undergone so long and so rigorous a discipline.
The reproaches which had no power to shake his fortitude, tried from childhood upwards by both extremes of fortune, inflicted a deadly wound on a less resolute heart.
While all the coffeehouses were unanimously resolving that a fleet and army ought to have been long before sent to Dublin, and wondering how so renowned a politician as his Majesty could have been duped by Hamilton and Tyrconnel, a gentleman went down to the Temple Stairs, called a boat, and desired to be pulled to Greenwich.

He took the cover of a letter from his pocket, scratched a few lines with a pencil, and laid the paper on the seat with some silver for his fare.

As the boat passed under the dark central arch of London Bridge, he sprang into the water and disappeared.