Iain Pears and Neoplatonism

I finished The Dream of Scipio last night. It's a spectacular book; Pears brings in philosophy and scholarship. He convincingly portrays the zeitgeist of the fifth, fourteenth, and twentieth centuries, in particular how they see virtue, the human soul, humanity's relationship with god, and Christianity's relationship with Judaism.

All three protagonists, in particular the fifth and twentieth century figures, are confronted with utilitarianism's "greatest happiness" principle - that is, you can figure out the right thing to do because the greatest good will come of it - or the least harm.

And so the fifth-century bishop turns his back on the defunct Roman Empire and parlays with the Burgundian barbarian king, who will do less damage than the Goth barbarians at the gate. And so the twentieth-century scholar works for the Vichy government as a censor, allowing himself to be convinced that he will cause less damage than someone less sensitive.

And always there are the Jews, to be used as scapegoats for whatever is wrong with Europe, like sacrifices to be fed to the gods of ignorance and hatred.

And always there is love.

A few gems from the book:

• A thirteenth-century painter's apprentice is amazed when he sees that the figure of Christ at the Last Supper echoes a man they both know. "Our little secret," the painter tells him. "But observe it well. Something of God is all around us, perhaps. All we need is eyes to see and a hand to capture."


• A fifth-century philosopher's despair: "... she could not but be aware that each newcomer to her door, however curious, knew less than the one he replaced. The ability to argue diminished; the grasp of basic concepts weakened; and the knowledge that comes from study grew perpetually less. Christianity, which spread over men's minds like a blanket, put faith above reason; increasingly those brought up under its influence scorned knowledge and thought. Even those with a spark given to them by the gods wanted to be told, rather than wanted to think. Getting them to accept that the goal was thought itself, not any conclusion at the end of thought, was hard indeed. They came to her for answers, and all they got instead were questions."


• About the few Cathars left in the the thirteenth century: "They claimed to be gods themselves, they denied the resurrection of the body, they claimed the world was evil and man a prison rather than something created in God's own image. That God Himself, the god of the Bible, was but a meddling demon and had nothing to do lwith the true deity from which we all come. There was, of course, no mention of Our Lord, and they plainly believed in reincarnation..."


• The fifth-century bishop thinking about Sophia, the philosopher: "Was he... fighting against the gods in trying to fend off disaster?
  "No, says Sophia... The question is a false one, for the concern of man is not his future but his present, not the world but his soul. We must be just, we must strive, we must engage ourselves with the business of the world for our own sake, because through that, and through contemplation in equal measure, our soul is purified and brought closer to the divine.... Faith means nothing, for we are too corrupted to apprehend the truth...
  "Rephrase the question then: Can Manlius Hippomanes, trudging northward with his small entourage, reverse the decline and restore tranquility to the land? Possibly not, nor does it matter. The attempt must be made; the outcome is irrelevant. Right action is a pale material reflection of the divine, but reflection it is, nevertheless. Define your goal and exert reason to accomplish it by virtuous action; success or failure is secondary."


• A couple pages later: "The spirit seeks the light, that is its nature. It wishes to return to its origin, and must try forever to reach enlightenment."