my finances, which had been considerably
exhausted at the Hermitage. Emilius, to which, after I had finished
Eloisa, I had given great application, was in forwardness, and the
produce of this could not be less than the sum of which I was already in
possession. I intended to place this money in such a manner as to
produce me a little annual income, which, with my copying, might be
sufficient to my wants without writing any more. I had two other works
upon the stocks. The first of these was my 'Institutions Politiques'.
I examined the state of this work, and found it required several years'
labor. I had not courage enough to continue it, and to wait until it was
finished before I carried my intentions into execution. Therefore,
laying the book aside, I determined to take from it all I could, and to
burn the rest; and continuing this with zeal without interrupting
Emilius, I finished the 'Contrat Social'.

The dictionary of music now remained. This was mechanical, and might be
taken up at any time; the object of it was entirely pecuniary. I
reserved to myself the liberty of laying it aside, or of finishing it at
my ease, according as my other resources collected should render this
necessary or superfluous. With respect to the 'Morale Sensitive',
of which I had made nothing more than a sketch, I entirely gave it up.

As my last project, if I found I could not entirely do without copying,
was that of removing from Paris, where the affluence of my visitors
rendered my housekeeping expensive, and deprived me of the time I should
have turned to advantage to provide for it; to prevent in my retirement
the state of lassitude into which an author is said to fall when he has
laid down his pen, I reserved to myself an occupation which might fill up
the void in my solitude without tempting me to print anything more.
I know not for what reason they had long tormented me to write the
memoirs of my life. Although these were not until that time interesting
as to the facts, I felt they might become so by the candor with which I
was capable of giving them, and I determined to make of these the only
work of the kind, by an unexampled veracity, that, for once at least, the
world might see a man such as he internally was. I had always laughed at
the false ingenuousness of Montaigne, who, feigning to confess his
faults, takes great care not to give himself any, except such as are
amiable; whilst I, who have ever thought, and still t