his book."
Virgil as guide is replaced by the Cumean Sibyl, who appears to
Christine in a dream, and offers to conduct her to another and a more
perfect world, one where there is no pain and misery. To this
Christine consents on condition that "sad Hades, whither AEneas once
was taken," is not included in the journey. The Sibyl therefore
promises to reveal to her, instead, in what manner misfortune came
upon earth, whilst at the same time showing her on the way all that
is worth seeing in this world, from the Pillars of Hercules, "the end
of the world," to distant Cathay. However exhausting this programme
may appear to us, Christine, knowing the real passion of the late
Middle Ages for travel--for even those who could not travel in reality
did so in imagination,--makes use of it as a setting for the
introduction of a discussion on the qualities most necessary to good
government. This she does, even at the risk of incurring displeasure
in high quarters, recalling how Dante's patriotism led to banishment
and death in exile, but she adds, "Qui bien ayme, tout endure." She
pours forth her classical examples in a chaotic stream, but when she
leaves earth, and ascends to the celestial regions, she not only shows
herself versed in the astronomy of the time, but also expresses some
beauty of thought. The order of the firmament, where all obey law
without ceasing, so that harmony ensues "like sweet melody," reminds
her of Pythagoras and Plato, and suggests to her what life on earth
might be if good laws were made and observed. In furtherance of her
idea, she appeals to Reason, who presides over the Virtues or Divine
Powers, to interrogate the three earthly disputants, Nobility, Riches,
and Wisdom. In the end Reason awards the prize to Wisdom, condemning
Riches as the great enemy of mankind. Thereupon Wisdom appeals to the
verdicts of Juvenal, Boethius, St. Jerome, and others to establish
that it is Virtue alone that is of worth, and ennobles a man, and then
sets forth the qualities of a good sovereign. But as this leads to
some difference of opinion, Christine, who was withal a courtly lady,
descends to earth in order to ask the King, Charles the Sixth, to
decide the matter. This dream-poem she dedicates to her royal master
for his diversion in his saner moments, and thus once again introduces
into high places the subject so near to her heart. She lets it be seen
that she herself, like Dante, did not believe in the blending of th