One hundred years ago
MR. GLADSTONE evidently finds it hard to remember that he is not as young as he used to be, and ought to take more precautions against chills at eighty-three than he has been accus- tomed to take through life. On Satur- day, after dining with Lord Kimberley in Lowndes Square, he drove up to Hamp- stead to stay with his son Henry, and as the air was frosty, he naturally caught cold, and on Sunday night was decidedly unwell. On Monday, he drove down to Sir Andrew Clark's, and was at once ordered to go to bed, and Mrs. Glad- stone, who was at Hawarden, was sent for. His indisposition is not serious, and the temperature, which was at first a good deal above normal, soon subsided; but, of course, the utmost care is neces- sary in the case of a man of Mr. Glad- stone's age, and under the pressure of Mr. Gladstone's responsibilities. It is, however, stated that he has been quite equal to the transaction of all the urgent business, the less urgent being, of course, reserved for his recovery or del- egated to his colleagues. Mr. Gladstone is not the man to be made really ill by the mere weight of care which the prospect of illness itself causes. We regret to observe, also, that Lord Salis- bury is down with the influenza, which is again picking its victims among men who would be missed. Fortunately, its attacks this year are not so deadly.
The Spectator 18 March 1893
Previous page
