he writes of friendship, and queries whether the divinity has given anything better to mortals. He refers to his prospects, and remarks: "sed involvit mundum caeca fortuna," and he is not certain whither it will cast him.[1]
Doubtless such antique sentiments were a matter of mood with Gerbert; he can readily express others of a Christian colour, and turn again to still other topics very readily, as in the following letter—a curious one. It is to a monk:
"Think not, sweetest brother, that it is through my fault I lack my brethren's society. After leaving thee, I had to undertake many journeys in the business of my father Columbanus.[2] The ambitions of the powers, the hard and wretched times, turn right to wrong. No one keeps faith. Yet since I know that all things hang on the decree of God, who changes both hearts and the kingdoms of the sons of men, I patiently await the end of things. I admonish and exhort thee, brother, to do the same. In the meanwhile one thing I beg, which may be accomplished without danger or loss to thee, and will make me thy friend forever. Thou knowest with what zeal I gather books everywhere, and thou knowest how many scribes there are in Italy, in town and country. Come then, quietly procure me copies of Manlius's (Boëthius) De astrologia, Victorinus's Rhetoric, Demosthenes's Optalmicus[3] I promise thee, brother, and will keep my word, to preserve a sacred silence as to thy praiseworthy compliance, and will remit twofold whatever thou dost demand. Let this much be known to the man, and the pay too, and cheer us more frequently with a letter; and have no fear that knowledge will come to any one of any matter thou mayest confide to our good faith."[4]
When he wrote this letter, about the year 988, Gerbert was dangerously deep in politics, and great was the power of this low-born titular Abbot of Bobbio, head of the school at Rheims and secretary to the archbishop. The tortuous statecraft and startling many-sidedness of this "scholar in politics" must have disturbed his contemporaries, and may have roused the suspicions from which grew the stories, told by future men, that this scholar, statesman, and philosopher-pope was a magician who had learned from forbidden
