For two years more he lingered, sinking slowly into unconsciousness and imbecility.  Sometimes, propped up in his chair, he would be heard to murmur, with unexpected appositeness, the words of Samson:—­

     “So much I feel my general spirit droop,
     My hopes all flat, nature within me seems,
     In all her functions weary of herself,
     My race of glory run, and race of shame,
     And I shall shortly be with them that rest.”

A few days before his death, Victoria, learning that there was no hope of his recovery, turned her mind for a little towards that which had once been Lord M.  “You will grieve to hear,” she told King Leopold, “that our good, dear, old friend Melbourne is dying...  One cannot forget how good and kind and amiable he was, and it brings back so many recollections to my mind, though, God knows!  I never wish that time back again.”

She was in little danger.  The tide of circumstance was flowing now with irresistible fullness towards a very different consummation.  The seriousness of Albert, the claims of her children, her own inmost inclinations, and the movement of the whole surrounding world, combined to urge her forward along the narrow way of public and domestic duty.  Her family steadily increased.  Within eighteen months of the birth of the Prince of Wales the Princess Alice appeared, and a year later the Prince Alfred, and then the Princess Helena, and, two years afterwards, the Princess Louise; and still there were signs that the pretty row of royal infants was not complete.  The parents, more and more involved in family cares and family happiness, found the pomp of Windsor galling, and longed for some more intimate and remote retreat.  On the advice of Peel they purchased the estate of Osborne, in the Isle of Wight.  Their skill and economy in financial matters had enabled them to lay aside a substantial sum of money; and they could afford, out of their savings, not merely to buy the property but to build a new house for themselves and to furnish it at a cost of L200,000.  At Osborne, by the sea-shore, and among the woods, which Albert, with memories of Rosenau in his mind, had so carefully planted, the royal family spent every hour that could be snatched from Windsor and London—­delightful hours of deep retirement and peaceful work.  The public looked on with approval.  A few aristocrats might sniff or titter; but with the nation at large the Queen was now once more extremely popular.  The middle-classes, in particular, were pleased.  They liked a love-match; they liked a household which combined the advantages of royalty and virtue, and in which they seemed to see, reflected as in some resplendent looking-glass, the ideal image of the very lives they led themselves.  Their own existences, less exalted, but oh! so soothingly similar, acquired an added excellence, an added succulence, from the early hours, the regularity, the plain tuckers, the round games, the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding