You will have heard of the sad misfortune that has happened to Lord Ilchester by his daughter’s marriage(577) with O’Brien the actor.  But, perhaps, you do not know the circumstances, and how much his grief must be aggravated by reflection on his own credulity and negligence.  The affair has been in train for eighteen months.  The swain had learned to counterfeit Lady Sarah Bunbury’s(578) hand so well that in the country Lord Ilchester has himself delivered several of O’Brien’s letters to Lady Susan; but it was not till about a week before the catastrophe that the family was apprised of the intrigue.  Lord Cathcart went to Miss Reade’s, the paintress; she said softly to him, “My lord, there is a couple in the next room that I am sure ought not to be together; I wish your lordship would look in.”  He did, shut the door again, and went directly and informed Lord Ilchester.  Lady Susan was examined, flung herself at her father’s feet, confessed all, vowed to break off but—­what a but!—­desired to see the loved object, and take a last leave.  You will be amazed-even this was granted.  The parting scene happened the beginning of the week.  On Friday she came of age, and on Saturday morning—­ instead of being under lock and key in the country—­walked down stairs, took her footman, said she was going to breakfast with Lady Sarah, but would call at Miss Reade’s; in the street, pretended to recollect a particular cap in which she was to be drawn, sent the footman back for it, whipped into a hackney chair, was married at Covent-garden church, and set out for Mr. O’Brien’s villa at Dunstable.  My Lady—­my Lady Hertford! what say you to permitting young ladies to act plays, and go to painters by themselves?

Poor Lord Ilchester is almost distracted; indeed, it is the completion of disgrace,(579)—­even a footman were preferable; the publicity of the hero’s profession perpetuates the Unification.  Il ne sera pas milord, tout comme un autre.  I could not have believed that Lady Susan would have stooped so low.  She may, however, still keep good company, and say, “nos numeri sumus”—­ Lady Mary Duncan,(580) Lady Caroline Adair,(581) Lady Betty Gallini(582)—­the shopkeepers of next age will be mighty well born.  If our genealogies had been so confused four hundred years ago, Norborne Berkeley would have had still more difficulty with his obsolete Barony of Bottelourt, which the House of Lords at last has granted him.  I have never attended the hearings, though it has been much the fashion, but nobody cares less than I about what they don’t care for.  I have been as indifferent about other points, of which all the world is talking, as the restriction of franking, and the great cause of Hamilton and Douglas.  I am almost as tired of what is still more in vogue, our East India affairs.  Mir Jaffeir(583) and Cossim Aly Cawn, and their deputies Clive and Sullivan, or rather their principals, employ the public attention, instead of Mogul Pitt and Nabob Bute; the former of whom remains shut Up in Asiatic dignity at Hayes, while the other is again mounting his elephant and levying troops.  What Lord Tavistock meaned of his invisible Haughtiness’S(584) invective on Mr. Neville, I do not know.  He has not been in the House of Commons since the war of privilege.  It must have been something he dropped in private.