e great Italian tragic poet, Alfieri. Since her husband's
death she had been living in Paris, but had now fled to England for
safety.]

[Footnote 2: Mrs. Fitzherbert, the Roman Catholic lady whom the Prince
of Wales had married.]

I am glad you are dis_franchised_ of the exiles. We have several, I am
told, here; but I strictly confine myself to those I knew formerly at
Paris, and who all are quartered on Richmond-green. I went to them on
Sunday evening, but found them gone to Lord Fitzwilliam's, the next
house to Madame de Boufflers', to hear his organ; whither I followed
them, and returned with them. The Comtesse Emilie played on her harp;
then we all united at loto. I went home at twelve, unrobbed; and Lord
Fitzwilliam, who asked much after you both, was to set out the next
morning for Dublin, though intending to stay there but four days, and be
back in three weeks.

I am sorry you did not hear all Monsieur de Lally Tollendal's[1]
Tragedy, of which I have had a good account. I like his tribute to his
father's memory. Of French politics you must be tired; and so am I.
Nothing appears to me to promise their chaos duration; consequently I
expect more chaos, the sediment of which is commonly despotism. Poland
ought to make the French blush; but that, they are not apt to do on any
occasion....

[Footnote 1: M. de Lally Tollendal was the son of that unfortunate Count
Lally, so iniquitously condemned for his conduct in the government of
India, as is mentioned in a former note.]

The Duke of St. Albans has cut down all the brave old trees at Hanworth,
and consequently reduced his park to what it issued
from--Hounslow-heath: nay, he has hired a meadow next to mine, for the
benefit of embarkation; and there lie all the good old corpses of oaks,
ashes, and chestnuts, directly before _your_ windows, and blocking up
one of my views of the river! but so impetuous is the rage for building,
that his Grace's timber will, I trust, not annoy us long. There will
soon be one street from London to Brentford; ay, and from London to
every village ten miles round! Lord Camden has just let ground at
Kentish Town for building fourteen hundred houses--nor do I wonder;
London is, I am certain, much fuller than ever I saw it. I have twice
this spring been going to stop my coach in Piccadilly, to inquire what
was the matter, thinking there was a mob--not at all; it was only
passengers. Nor is there any complaint of depopulation from the count