In November 1688, the walled city of Derry was the only garrison in Ireland in support of William of Orange. The 76-year-old Alexander MacDonnell, Earl of Antrim, was ordered by Richard Talbot, the Earl of Tyrconnell, the viceroy in Ireland of James II of England, to replace the garrison at Derry with one loyal to James II. MacDonnell assembled an army of 1,200 men. But 13 apprentice boys seized the keys of the city and locked the gates on December 7th, 1688.
The siege of Derry began. King James arrived in Ireland on March 12th, 1689, and arrived outside Derry a little over a month later, on April 18th. There followed a siege, lasting 105 days, during which the city's inhabitants suffered terrible afflictions. Bombs and mortars were rained on the city. There was famine and disease. More than 4,000 died. The governor of the city, Robert Lundy, favoured capitulation but the citizens of the enraged Derry were determined to continue with the defence of the city. Lundy escaped.
The siege was ended on July 28th after three merchant ships sailed up the Foyle and broke the blockade. The siege is regarded as one of the great triumphs of Protestantism in Catholic Ireland. In the minds of many loyalists these days - and maybe in the mind of Ian Paisley himself - there resides an anxiety: is he now about to go the way of Robert Lundy and surrender the citadel of unionism, Stormont, to the enemies of unionism, Sinn Féin? Worse still, is he to collaborate with them personally in the subjugation that will follow the surrender?
On radio at lunchtime yesterday, Paisley spoke with more enthusiasm and optimism about doing a deal with Sinn Féin than he had done previously. He spoke of being "confident the people are with me". Even were he to resign now from powersharing, his reasons for doing so are undermined by Monday's report from the Independent Monitoring Commission (IMC) that said the IRA was no longer engaged in terrorism, was not going to revert to terrorism, was being encouraged by its leadership to engage in politics and community affairs, and was in the process of disbandment.
Paisley has never had to compromise previously, aside from right at the inception of the DUP (Democratic Unionist Party) when his co-founder, Desmond Boal, would not have the name "the Protestant Unionist Party".
Boal insisted on replacing "Protestant" with "Democratic", and Paisley relented. But then he was in awe of Boal, in awe in a curious way for they were so different in religion, politics, temperament and lifestyle. Boal was/is super clever and I think it was that which overawed Paisley (I was in the company of both together on many occasions in the early and mid-1970s).
But aside from his dealings with Boal, was there ever an occasion Paisley had to compromise?
His reflexive position was always to go to the extreme, utter the most extreme thought that entered his head, flee to the furthest extremity whenever there was a threat of being outflanked to his right. And it never mattered, for no one took him on when he clawed back from the extremities.
He learned extremism was the most comfortable place for him to be.
But now in his old age, he has been coaxed back from the extreme and has committed himself - sort of - to a form of moderation. It wouldn't matter were there no one to his right but, alarmingly, there are people to his right and these are within his very own party. It is intriguing to see him wrestle with his instinct to flee to the extremity again, especially with the commitments he has half-given to party colleagues and the British government that this time he will compromise.
I am sure he hates this, hates the pressure to do that which his heart, his gut and probably his head tells him not to do. Yes he would like to be the prime minister at Stormont (granted, the position is called "first minister" but he will see it as prime minister), all the more so since he hounded three previous prime ministers from office - Terence O'Neill, James Chichester Clarke and Brian Faulkner - and would relish the thought of, having routed them, replacing them. But at the price of being called a "Lundy", the most reviled term in the unionist lexicon - a term of abuse he used so often against others who sought to compromise.
If not called "Lundy", he would see the rebuke in the faces of Gregory Campbell, Nigel Dodds and the others, were he to do the deal and go into government with Martin McGuinness
It is likely now he will do that deal on Monday week and that he will sit in government with Martin McGuinness. But he will hate it. And, hating it, the first ripple of disagreement or infraction (as he would see it) by Sinn Féin will propel him to leave.
This is no done-deal in the longer term. More likely, there will be further falterings and further crises. But in terms of the future of Northern Ireland, the war is over - but it may take generations for reconciliation.