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Updated: June 26, 2025
When the late Lord Ampthill was a junior clerk in the Foreign Office, Lord Palmerston, then Foreign Secretary, introduced an innovation whereby, instead of being solemnly summoned by a verbal message, the clerks were expected to answer his bell.
"By the seven chimes I have heard her mention your name. The devil fetch my memory!" "My name!" I exclaimed, in surprise, and prodigiously upset. "Yes," he answered, with his hand to his head; "some such thought was in my mind this afternoon when I heard of your riding. Stay! I have it! I was at Ampthill, Ossory's place, just before I left.
I told him I had heard none. He took me by the sleeve, to the quiet amusement of the company, and led me aside. "Curse you, Richard," says be; "you have put me in such a temper that I vow I'll fling you over. You profess to love her, and yet you go betting to Newmarket and carousing to Ampthill when she is ill." "Ill!" I said, catching my breath. "Ay! That hurts, does it? Yes, ill, I say.
They do not live separate, but mix with those of the Church of England in the colleges. Potton, a village. Ampthill, a town; here we saw immense numbers of rabbits, which are reckoned as good as hares, and are very well tasted. We passed through the towns of Woburn, Leighton, Aylesbury, and Wheatley.
Fox and I, to Ampthill, Lord Ossory's seat, with a merry troop. And then we had more racing; and whist and quinze and pharaoh and hazard, until I was obliged to write another draft upon Mr. Dix to settle the wails: and picquet in the travelling-chaise all the way to London. Dining at Brooks's, we encountered Fitzpatrick and Comyn and my Lord Carlisle.
"Her old woman," in the same passage, is, of course, a jocular allusion to Dorothy herself; and "the old knight" is, I believe, Sir Robert Cook, a Bedfordshire gentleman, of whom nothing is known except that he was knighted at Ampthill, July 21st, 1621. We hear some little more of him from Dorothy.
This brilliant conversationalist was the author of several airy and graceful productions in verse, which were published anonymously, such as Lines written at Ampthill Park, in 1818; Advice to Julia, a letter in Rhyme, in which he sketched high life in London, in 1820. He also published Crockford House: a rhapsody, in 1827. Moore in his Diary has embalmed numerous examples of his satiric wit.
The next letter, from Lord Wensleydale, is interesting as a piece of verbal criticism; showing, also, how a pilot in avoiding Scylla may easily run his bark into Charybdis, or how a writer, whilst objecting to a harmless 'firstly, may perpetrate an atrocious 'differ with. Ampthill Park, January 31st. My dear Reeve, I was much pleased to hear that 'firstly' was an error.
I told him I had heard none. He took me by the sleeve, to the quiet amusement of the company, and led me aside. "Curse you, Richard," says be; "you have put me in such a temper that I vow I'll fling you over. You profess to love her, and yet you go betting to Newmarket and carousing to Ampthill when she is ill." "Ill!" I said, catching my breath. "Ay! That hurts, does it? Yes, ill, I say.
I told him I had heard none. He took me by the sleeve, to the quiet amusement of the company, and led me aside. "Curse you, Richard," says be; "you have put me in such a temper that I vow I'll fling you over. You profess to love her, and yet you go betting to Newmarket and carousing to Ampthill when she is ill." "Ill!" I said, catching my breath. "Ay! That hurts, does it? Yes, ill, I say.
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