Agatha and I dined in town, with the Selbornes.  I between Lord Selborne and Gladstone, who was as usual most agreeable and most eloquent, giving life and fervour to conversation whatever was the subject.  “The Eastern Question,” the “Life of Prince Albert,” the comedy of “Diplomacy,” the different degrees of “parliamentary courage” in different statesmen, etc.  He said that in his opinion Sir Robert Peel, my husband, and, “I must give the devil his due,” Disraeli, were the three statesmen whom he had known who had the most “parliamentary courage.”

In the summer of 1877 Lord Russell had taken a house overlooking the sea near Broadstairs.  But he was falling into a gradual decline, the consequence of great age, and after they came home from Broadstairs, he never again left Pembroke Lodge.

    Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal

    PEMBROKE LODGE, January 11, 1878

Do not think too much of the pain to me, but of the mercy of there being none to him, in this gradual extinction of a mind which gave light to so many, of affections which made home so happy.  My worst pain is over—­was over long ago—­the pain of first acknowledging to myself my own loneliness, without the guide, the example, the support, which so long were mine—­without those golden joys of perfect companionship which made the hours fly when we sat and talked together on many an evening of blessed memory, or strolled together among our trees and our flowers, or snatched a few moments together from his days and nights of noble toil in London.  All this is over, all this and much more, but gratitude that it has been remains, and the bright hope of a renewal of companionship hereafter gives strength and courage for present duties and passing trials.

Mr. George W.E.  Russell, in the closing passage of an article on his uncle, [95] wrote of these last years of his life:  “...  Thus in peace and dignity that long life of public and private virtue neared its close; in a home made bright by the love of friends and children, and tended by the devotion of her who for more than five-and-thirty years had been the good angel of her husband’s house.”

[95] Contemporary Review, December, 1889.

    PEMBROKE LODGE, April 19, 1878

I have just been sitting with my dearest husband; he has said precious words such as I did not expect ever to hear from him, for his mind is seldom, very seldom clear.  We were holding one another’s hands:  “I hope I haven’t given you much trouble.”  “How, dearest?” “In watching over me.”  Then by and by he said, “I have made mistakes, but in all I did my object was the public good.”  Again, “I have sometimes seemed cold to my friends—­but it was not in my heart.”  He said he had enjoyed his life.  I said, “I hope you enjoy it now.”  He said, “Yes, except that I am too much confined to my bed....  I’m very old—­I’m eighty-five.”