ion of my
heart. The facility with which I forget past evils, however recent they
may be, is astonishing. The remembrance of them becomes feeble, and,
sooner or later, effaced, in the inverse proportion to the greater degree
of fear with which the approach of them inspires me. My cruel
imagination, incessantly tormented by the apprehension of evils still at
a distance, diverts my attention, and prevents me from recollecting those
which are past. Caution is needless after the evil has happened, and it
is time lost to give it a thought. I, in some measure, put a period to
my misfortunes before they happen: the more I have suffered at their
approach the greater is the facility with which I forget them; whilst, on
the contrary, incessantly recollecting my past happiness, I, if I may so
speak, enjoy it a second time at pleasure. It is to this happy
disposition I am indebted for an exemption from that ill humor which
ferments in a vindictive mind, by the continual remembrance of injuries
received, and torments it with all the evil it wishes to do its enemy.
Naturally choleric, I have felt all the force of anger, which in the
first moments has sometimes been carried to fury, but a desire of
vengeance never took root within me. I think too little of the offence
to give myself much trouble about the offender. I think of the injury I
have received from him on account of that he may do me a second time, but
were I certain he would never do me another the first would be instantly
forgotten. Pardon of offences is continually preached to us. I knew not
whether or not my heart would be capable of overcoming its hatred, for it
never yet felt that passion, and I give myself too little concern about
my enemies to have the merit of pardoning them. I will not say to what a
degree, in order to torment me, they torment themselves. I am at their
mercy, they have unbounded power, and make of it what use they please.
There is but one thing in which I set them at defiance: which is in
tormenting themselves about me, to force me to give myself the least
trouble about them.

The day after my departure I had so perfectly forgotten what had passed,
the parliament, Madam de Pompadour, M. de Choiseul, Grimm, and
D'Alembert, with their conspiracies, that had not it been for the
necessary precautions during the journey I should have thought no more of
them. The remembrance of one thing which supplied the place of all these
was what I had re