done in my situation, I believe that less than my heart, which bitterly belies it."[143] This coincides with the first undisguised account given in the Confessions, which has been already quoted, and it has not that flawed ring of cant and fine words which sounds through nearly all his other references to this great stain upon his life, excepting one, and this is the only further document with which we need concern ourselves.  In that,[144] which was written while the unholy work was actually being done, he states very distinctly that the motives were those which are more or less closely connected with most unholy works, motives of money—­the great instrument and measure of our personal convenience, the quantitative test of our self-control in placing personal convenience behind duty to other people.  “If my misery and my misfortunes rob me of the power of fulfilling a duty so dear, that is a calamity to pity me for, rather than a crime to reproach me with.  I owe them subsistence, and I procured a better or at least a surer subsistence for them than I could myself have provided; this condition is above all others.”  Next comes the consideration of their mother, whose honour must be kept.  “You know my situation; I gained my bread from day to day painfully enough; how then should I feed a family as well?  And if I were compelled to fall back on the profession of author, how would domestic cares and the confusion of children leave me peace of mind enough in my garret to earn a living?  Writings which hunger dictates are hardly of any use, and such a resource is speedily exhausted.  Then I should have to resort to patronage, to intrigue, to tricks ... in short to surrender myself to all those infamies, for which I am penetrated with such just horror.  Support myself, my children, and their mother on the blood of wretches?  No, madame, it were better for them to be orphans than to have a scoundrel for their father....  Why have I not married, you will ask?  Madame, ask it of your unjust laws.  It was not fitting for me to contract an eternal engagement; and it will never be proved to me that my duty binds me to it.  What is certain is that I have never done it, and that I never meant to do it.  But we ought not to have children when we cannot support them.  Pardon me, madame; nature means us to have offspring, since the earth produces sustenance enough for all; but it is the rich, it is your class, which robs mine of the bread of my children....  I know that foundlings are not delicately nurtured; so much the better for them, they become more robust.  They have nothing superfluous given to them, but they have everything that is necessary.  They do not make gentlemen of them, but peasants or artisans....  They would not know how to dance, or ride on horseback, but they would have strong unwearied legs.  I would neither make authors of them, nor clerks; I would not practise them in handling the pen, but the plough, the file, and the plane, instruments for leading a healthy,