At Limerick, the last asylum of the vanquished race, the authority of Tyrconnel was supreme.  There was now no general who could pretend that his commission made him independent of the Lord Lieutenant; nor was the Lord Lieutenant now so unpopular as he had been a fortnight earlier.  Since the battle there had been a reflux of public feeling.  No part of that great disaster could be imputed to the Viceroy.  His opinion indeed had been against trying the chances of a pitched field, and he could with some plausibility assert that the neglect of his counsels had caused the ruin of Ireland.112

He made some preparations for defending Limerick, repaired the fortifications, and sent out parties to bring in provisions.  The country, many miles round, was swept bare by these detachments, and a considerable quantity of cattle and fodder was collected within the walls.  There was also a large stock of biscuit imported from France.  The infantry assembled at Limerick were about fifteen thousand men.  The Irish horse and dragoons, three or four thousand in number, were encamped on the Clare side of the Shannon.  The communication between their camp and the city was maintained by means of a bridge called the Thomond Bridge, which was protected by a fort.  These means of defence were not contemptible.  But the fall of Athlone and the slaughter of Aghrim had broken the spirit of the army.  A small party, at the head of which were Sarsfield and a brave Scotch officer named Wauchop, cherished a hope that the triumphant progress of Ginkell might be stopped by those walls from which William had, in the preceding year, been forced to retreat.  But many of the Irish chiefs loudly declared that it was time to think of capitulating.  Henry Luttrell, always fond of dark and crooked politics, opened a secret negotiation with the English.  One of his letters was intercepted; and he was put under arrest; but many who blamed his perfidy agreed with him in thinking that it was idle to prolong the contest.  Tyrconnel himself was convinced that all was lost.  His only hope was that he might be able to prolong the struggle till he could receive from Saint Germains permission to treat.  He wrote to request that permission, and prevailed, with some difficulty, on his desponding countrymen to bind themselves by an oath not to capitulate till an answer from James should arrive.113

A few days after the oath had been administered, Tyrconnel was no more.  On the eleventh of August he dined with D’Usson.  The party was gay.  The Lord Lieutenant seemed to have thrown off the load which had bowed down his body and mind; he drank; he jested; he was again the Dick Talbot who had diced and revelled with Grammont.  Soon after he had risen from table, an apoplectic stroke deprived him of speech and sensation.  On the fourteenth he breathed his last.  The wasted remains of that form which had once been a model for statuaries were laid under the pavement of the Cathedral; but no inscription, no tradition, preserves the memory of the spot.114