far removed from being at all concerned at human accidents; and, being
free from every imperfection, she thinks that nothing which is external
to herself can concern her. But we, who increase every approaching evil
by our fear, and every present one by our grief, choose rather to
condemn the nature of things than our own errors.

II. But the amendment of this fault, and of all our other vices and
offences, is to be sought for in philosophy: and as my own inclination
and desire led me, from my earliest youth upward, to seek her
protection, so, under my present misfortunes, I have had recourse to
the same port from whence I set out, after having been tossed by a
violent tempest. O Philosophy, thou guide of life! thou discoverer of
virtue and expeller of vices! what had not only I myself, but the whole
life of man, been without you? To you it is that we owe the origin of
cities; you it was who called together the dispersed race of men into
social life; you united them together, first, by placing them near one
another, then by marriages, and lastly, by the communication of speech
and languages. You have been the inventress of laws; you have been our
instructress in morals and discipline; to you we fly for refuge; from
you we implore assistance; and as I formerly submitted to you in a
great degree, so now I surrender up myself entirely to you. For one day
spent well, and agreeably to your precepts, is preferable to an
eternity of error. Whose assistance, then, can be of more service to me
than yours, when you have bestowed on us tranquillity of life, and
removed the fear of death? But Philosophy is so far from being praised
as much as she has deserved by mankind, that she is wholly neglected by
most men, and actually evil spoken of by many. Can any person speak ill
of the parent of life, and dare to pollute himself thus with parricide,
and be so impiously ungrateful as to accuse her whom he ought to
reverence, even were he less able to appreciate the advantages which he