‘So far the prologue; now for the anecdote, which is just as interesting as thousands are which are daily propagated. It was about two years before the divorce of the Duchess of Grafton that her Grace and Lord March played at “brag” for two or three hours one evening at Euston; the others—viz. the Duke and Mr. Vary and Jack Young—looked over without playing at all. Lord M. had been very forward in “bragging,” but threw up his cards afterwards when he had three knaves, whether he had a presentiment that the Duchess had three aces or whether he had artfully seen her hand. This cowardice struck Jack Young so sensibly that he fixed his eyes very sternly on Lord M., and addressed him thus: "Why! March, thou art the most dunghill Scots’ peer that I ever met with." His Lordship instantly arose from his chair, filled with indignation, and whilst he was wavering whether he should use a poker or some other instrument, the Duke said to him: “I find, Lord March, that my friend Jack Young treats you as he constantly treats my wife and me.” This prudent and good-natured interference disarmed Lord M., and they all passed the evening pleasantly. You may depend upon the truth of this story, as I had it from Mr. Vary.
‘I remain, dear Madam
‘Yours, &c. &c.,
‘J. Symonds.’
The next anecdote was considered at the time by all who heard it to redound to the credit of my brother. In one of his visits to Euston he arrived unexpectedly and late in the afternoon, and immediately went to the room always appropriated to him to dress for dinner, and thence proceeded directly into the dining-room, when, to his astonishment, he perceived sitting at the head of the table the notorious Nancy Parsons instead of the Duchess. He instantly drew back, at the same moment extending his arms to mark his astonishment. The Duke went up to him with a conciliatory air, took his arm and said: ‘Come, come, Jack, these things are always done in a hurry without consideration. I had no time to make alterations or inform you. I will explain afterwards.’ But he only answered with a shake of his head, and, shrugging up his huge shoulders, retired, mounted his horse, and reached Bradfield the same night, a distance of nearly fifteen miles.
It should be remembered at this time the Duke was Prime Minister and the Doctor looking up to him for further preferment. By this he lost a bishopric.
I was at Bradfield, and received an express[[106]] from Dr. Roberts, Provost of Eton, to inform me of the accident, which called me thither at once. I resided there some time on account of my brother’s affairs, dining every day with the Provost and Fellows. On the same account I was obliged to go to Worcester, where he was a Prebendary and Rector of St. John’s in that city. Dr. Y. died without a will, as he had often told me he would do. When all his affairs were settled I returned to Bradfield. So sudden and dreadful an accident affected me deeply; there is something in such deaths that strikes every feeling of the soul. In the midst of the rapid movements of that animated amusement, in one moment to be hurried into another world without one thought of preparation has something tremendously formidable in it; yet every one is liable to deaths equally sudden, and the suggestion ought to be universal: ‘Prepare to meet thy God.’ The misery is that thousands sitting in their chairs and with ample time for preparation are apt to think of any subject rather than this most important of all.
l.
[No date, but evidently written at this period.]
‘As I should be sorry to keep from you anything that must give you pleasure in your welfare of your children, I shall report a conversation with Dr. Langford, the under-master, who my brother got the Prebendary of Worcester for by speaking to Lord Sidney.