ficient to my subsistence. My lord marshal having recovered all his
property, had offered me twelve hundred livres (fifty pounds) a year,
half of which I accepted. He wished to send me the principal, and this I
refused on account of the difficulty of placing it. He then sent the
amount to Du Peyrou, in whose hands it remained, and who pays me the
annuity according to the terms agreed upon with his lordship. Adding
therefore to the result of my agreement with Du Peyrou, the annuity of
the marshal, two-thirds of which were reversible to Theresa after my
death, and the annuity of three hundred livres from Duchesne, I was
assured of a genteel subsistence for myself, and after me for Theresa, to
whom I left seven hundred livres (twenty-nine pounds) a year, from the
annuities paid me by Rey and the lord marshal; I had therefore no longer
to fear a want of bread. But it was ordained that honor should oblige me
to reject all these resources which fortune and my labors placed within
my reach, and that I should die as poor as I had lived. It will be seen
whether or not, without reducing myself to the last degree of infamy, I
could abide by the engagements which care has always taken to render
ignominious, by depriving me of every other resource to force me to
consent to my own dishonor. How was it possible anybody could doubt of
the choice I should make in such an alternative? Others have judged of
my heart by their own.

My mind at ease relative to subsistence was without care upon every other
subject. Although I left in the world the field open to my enemies,
there remained in the noble enthusiasm by which my writings were
dictated, and in the constant uniformity of my principles, an evidence of
the uprightness of my heart which answered to that deducible from my
conduct in favor of my natural disposition. I had no need of any other
defense against my calumniators. They might under my name describe
another man, but it was impossible they should deceive such as were
unwilling to be imposed upon. I could have given them my whole life to
animadvert upon, with a certainty, notwithstanding all my faults and
weaknesses, and my want of aptitude to, support the lightest yoke, of
their finding me in every situation a just and good man, without
bitterness, hatred, or jealousy, ready to acknowledge my errors, and
still more prompt to forget the injuries I received from others; seeking
all my happiness in love, friendship, and a