of the spheres, to declare why, when all things go their round unswerving and unchanged, man alone wanders at will, working wickedness; why the innocent lie helpless at the mercy of blind Fortune. His divine visitor hears him out, and then compassionates him on his banishment, or rather his self-imposed exile, from his true home. She has been aware of his wound long since, but it is deeper than she had supposed. Her remedies must be cautiously applied, and in increasing power, as the strength of the patient grows. He shall lay bare his inmost heart to her, and confess that indeed he knows not what he is, nor what man himself is. There is One above who rules and orders all things; but the manner of this ordering is beyond the ken of the sufferer's weakened intellect. Here, however, is a spark of good from which a bright flame may presently leap up. But it will need time.

BOOK II.

Philosophy now proceeds to prove that in reality Boethius has no right to blame Fortune. He has taken upon him, fully aware of what he was doing, the yoke of her fickleness, whose very essence is mutability. All the possessions the loss of which

he is now lamenting are Fortune's own property, and she can withdraw them at will. She had showered upon him the blessings of friends, riches, knowledge, and renown. Had any one of her votaries received more at her hands? To these arguments he answers with the words which Dante borrowed and made immortal 1—“ Of all the miseries of Fortune, the cruellest misfortune is to have been happy once." Philosophy replies that there are remaining to him blessings as precious as those he has lost. The noble Symmachus still lives, unscathed save by the pain another's sufferings are causing him. Rusticiana is left, and so are the young consulars, in whom their father and grandfather live again. How few there are who would not gladly change with even his present sad condition. True happiness lies within the man himself, and not in the gifts of Fortune, whose nature is so changeful, whose value is so variable. He who is master of himself possesses a gift which he will never wish to lose, which Fortune will never be able to take from him.

To know or to be ignorant of Fortune's fickleness

1 "Nessun maggior dolore

Che ricordarsi del tempo felice

Nella miseria."

—Inf., v. 121.

is equally disastrous to the man on whom her favour falls; for all ignorance implies unhappiness, and this particular knowledge engenders gnawing fear. At this point in the colloquy the divine physician begins to apply her remedia validiora. What, she asks, are Fortune's gifts, and which of them carries happiness with it? Is it money? But money must leave the purse before it can purchase felicity; nothing is more graceless than avarice. Is it the flash of jewels, or the beauty of the land and its fruits? But no man can really claim these as his own. Is it position and power? But the attainment of these lies within the reach of the vilest of mankind. And as nature abhors contraries, gifts which fall to the lot of the wicked can have no real good in themselves. Is it a great name? Here Philosophy has laid her finger on a tender spot. Yes, cries Boethius. I want scope for action, to keep green and fresh the virtue that I know is in me. It is then explained how narrow are the limits of human glory. This earth is but a tiny speck in the vast system of the universe: how contemptible eg: TROY must the splendour of a single city, much more that of one of its inhabitants, appear to him whose gaze eq. TROIL US is familiar with the infinity of the heavens. In the time of Cicero the fame of the Republic, then in its

flower, had not spread across the Caucasus; how "cribbed, cabined, and confined" must have been the renown of even its noblest citizen. Again, what one time and one nation looks upon with approval, another will unhesitatingly condemn. So a man

must be content with a name bounded by his own epoch, and known to his contemporaries only. As to the glorious title of philosopher, it is one thing for a man to cheat himself into the belief that he is one, but quite another really to deserve the name. However, Philosophy has at the last a good word to say for Fortune. When that cruel goddess changes her deceitful smile to a frown, and in so doing proclaims her changeful nature, then she is indeed true; then, and then alone, can she lead men back to the only Good, from which she has lured them away in the time of their prosperity.

BOOK III.

The patient feels his strength returning under the inspiring words of Philosophy, and declares that he can support a yet further increase in the potency of her remedies. She thereupon leads him into a discussion of the supreme Good, and of the craving of humanity to attain to it. It is this that makes

them so eager for the superficial and fleeting pleasures of Fortune; the very diversity of their desires -some seeking riches, others fame, and so onpoints to some sovereign Good which shall satisfy every longing.

All men, even the most degenerate, are impelled to seek Good, each in his own way, and with more or less discernment. But wherein lies the true Good, the object of their aspirations? Not in wealth, for in the amassing of riches a man must needs rob his neighbour. Nor yet in an honourable position, for the climbing to office involves the preliminary humiliation of the canvass for votes. Nor again in power, for that is a possession surrounded with intrigue and danger.

And assuredly it does not lie in 'pleasure, for that implies servitude to the basest of all things, the body.

All these are insufficient, and but fragmentary parts of some great whole that contains them all. Before entering on the search for this whole, the Father of all must be invoked, without whose aid no undertaking can come to a successful issue. After the invocation follows the proof. God is good, for there is nothing better than He; nay, He is the perfection of goodness, and therefore the true Good must reside in Him. But happiness has been