TO GEORGE MONTAGU, ESQ.

PARIS, _Sunday night, Sept._ 17, 1769.

I am heartily tired; but, as it is too early to go to bed, I must tell
you how agreeably I have passed the day. I wished for you; the same
scenes strike us both, and the same kind of visions has amused us both
ever since we were born.

Well then; I went this morning to Versailles with my niece Mrs.
Cholmondeley, Mrs. Hart, Lady Denbigh's sister, and the Count de Grave,
one of the most amiable, humane, and obliging men alive. Our first
object was to see Madame du Barri. Being too early for mass, we saw the
Dauphin and his brothers at dinner. The eldest is the picture of the
Duke of Grafton, except that he is more fair, and will be taller. He has
a sickly air, and no grace. The Count de Provence has a very pleasing
countenance, with an air of more sense than the Count d'Artois, the
genius of the family. They already tell as many _bon-mots_ of the latter
as of Henri Quatre and Louis Quatorze. He is very fat, and the most like
his grandfather of all the children. You may imagine this royal mess did
not occupy us long: thence to the Chapel, where a first row in the
balconies was kept for us. Madame du Barri arrived over against us
below, without rouge, without powder, and indeed _sans avoir fait sa
toilette_; an odd appearance, as she was so conspicuous, close to the
altar, and amidst both Court and people. She is pretty, when you
consider her; yet so little striking, that I never should have asked who
she was. There is nothing bold, assuming or affected in her manner. Her
husband's sister was along with her. In the Tribune above, surrounded by
prelates, was the amorous and still handsome King. One could not help