but M. Roch (which was my mentor’s name) was not qualified to arrange their lessons, or to qualify me to benefit by them.  I was, moreover, like all the children of my age and of my station, dressed in the handsomest clothes to go out, and naked and dying with hunger in the house,"[35] and not through unkindness, but through household oversight, dissipation, and disorder, attention being given to things elsewhere.  One might easily count the fathers who, like the Marshal de Belle-Isle, brought up their sons under their own eyes, and themselves attended to their education methodically, strictly, and with tenderness.  As to the girls, they were placed in convents; relieved from this care, their parents only enjoy the greater freedom.  Even when they retain charge of them they are scarcely more of a burden to them.  Little Fé1icité de Saint-Aubin[36] sees her parents “only on their waking up and at meal times.”  Their day is wholly taken up; the mother is making or receiving visits; the father is in his laboratory or engaged in hunting.  Up to seven years of age the child passes her time with chambermaids who teach her only a little catechism, “with an infinite number of ghost stories.”  About this time she is taken care of; but in a way which well portrays the epoch.  The Marquise, her mother, the author of mythological and pastoral operas, has a theater built in the chateau; a great crowd of company resorts to it from Bourbon-Lancy and Moulins; after rehearsing twelve weeks the little girl, with a quiver of arrows and blue wings, plays the part of Cupid, and the costume is so becoming she is allowed to wear it in common during the entire day for nine months.  To finish the business they send for a dancing-fencing master, and, still wearing the Cupid costume, she takes lessons in fencing and in deportment.  “The entire winter is devoted to playing comedy and tragedy.”  Sent out of the room after dinner, she is brought in again only to play on the harpsichord or to declaim the monologue of Alzire before a numerous assembly.  Undoubtedly such extravagances are not customary; but the spirit of education is everywhere the same; that is to say, in the eyes of parents there is but one intelligible and rational existence, that of society, even for children, and the attentions bestowed on these are solely with a view to introduce them into it or to prepare them for it.  Even in the last years of the ancient régime[37] little boys have their hair powdered, “a pomatumed chignon (bourse), ringlets, and curls”; they wear the sword, the chapeau under the arm, a frill, and a coat with gilded cuffs; they kiss young ladies’ hands with the air of little dandies.  A lass of six years is bound up in a whalebone waist; her large hoop-petticoat supports a skirt covered with wreaths; she wears on her head a skillful combination of false curls, puffs, and knots, fastened with pins, and crowned with plumes, and so high that frequently “the chin is half way down to her feet”; sometimes they put rouge