red a peerage on Mr. Gladstone,
but she knows he would not accept it.

His last act in relation to this closing scene of the great official drama
was a letter to General Ponsonby (March 5):--

The first entrance of a man to Windsor Castle in a responsible
character, is a great event in his life; and his last departure
from it is not less moving. But in and during the process which
led up to this transaction on Saturday, my action has been in the
strictest sense sole, and it has required me in circumstances
partly known to harden my heart into a flint. However, it is not
even now so hard, but that I can feel what you have most kindly
written; nor do I fail to observe with pleasure that you do not
speak absolutely in the singular. If there were feelings that made
the occasion sad, such feelings do not die with the occasion. But
this letter must not be wholly one of egotism. I have known and
have liked and admired all the men who have served the Queen in
your delicate and responsible office; and have liked most,
probably because I knew him most, the last of them, that most
true-hearted man, General Grey. But forgive me for saying you are
"to the manner born"; and such a combination of tact and temper
with loyalty, intelligence, and truth I cannot expect to see
again. Pray remember these are words which can only pass from an
old man to one much younger, though trained in a long experience.

It is hardly in human nature, in spite of Charles V., Sulla, and some
other historic persons, to lay down power beyond recall, without a secret
pang. In Prior's lines that came to the mind of brave Sir Walter Scott, as
he saw the curtain falling on his days,--

The man in graver tragic known,
(Though his best part long since was done,)
Still on the stage desires to tarry....
Unwilling to retire, though weary.

Whether the departing minister had a lingering thought that in the
dispensations of the world, purposes and services would still arise to
which even yet he might one day be summoned, we do not know. Those who
were nearest to him believe not, and assuredly he made no outer sign.

Chapter IX. The Close. (1894-1898)

Natural death is as it were a haven and a rest to us after long
navigation. And the noble Soul is like a good mariner; for he,
when he draws near the port, lowers his sails and enters it so