The Dream of Scipio (Paperback)

This is a deeply philosophical book. It makes the reader confront the age old questions - is it an evil act in itself to stand by and let evil happen - is it ever justifiable to do a wrong in order to achieve a right - can you preserve civilization by acting barbarically ? I don't go along with criticisms which I have read that Iain Pears should have written a learned treatise rather than a novel on this subject. Like several of the characters in the novel, the reader is led subtly on a path towards understanding. The novel is never didactic, and rather works towards the conclusion that there are no answers, but it is possible for human beings to arrive at a deeper understanding.

This is not to say that you have to tap into these deep and philosophical levels to ejnoy the novel. There are actually three intertwined stories here, set in Provence in three seperate time periods. These tell the stories of Manlius, living at the time of the crumbling of Roman rule in Gaul, of Olivier, living in papal Avignon at the time of the Black Death, and of Julien, living in Petain's Vichy France. The three interwoven narratives are told with skill, and each held my interest. Iain Pears has the ability to effortlessly recreate the flavour of a particular place in time - readers of "An Instance of the Fingerpost" will not be disappointed on this score. His prose is clear and engaging. The endings of each of the three strands of the narrative contain twists which will leave you satisfied.

For all of that I do have one small moan. The title of the book is "The Dream of Scipio" which I originally thought was a reference back to the "Somnium Scipionis" by Cicero . The commentary on this real work, by Macrobius , ensured that it became highly influential upon late medieval literature and thought, spawning a whole poetic tradition of the "Dream Vision" . The fact is though that "The Dream of Scipio" - a version written by Manlius, a main character, promises to be at the heart of the novel, and yet it really isn't. Iain Pears really builds it up throughout a stupendous first part of the novel, then conveniently drops it.This is my only real criticism of the novel, but it did leave me a little unsatisfied. This is not , for me , a mystery centered on a historical manuscript in the way that Perez-Reverte's "The Dumas Club" is.

Make no mistake, this is a very serious novel, and its not for you if all you're looking for is a little escapist fun - and there's nothing wrong with that, either. However, if you don't mind being given serious food for thought, then this may well be the one for you.

Manlius is a 5th century Roman aristocrat, living during the final years of the Roman Empire. Originally a man of letters more than political or religious leader, he is a member of a dying class: educated in Neoplatonism and the classical Roman tradition, cultured, and placing the survival of civilization - as embodied in traditional Roman virtues - above everything else. Yet, as his city, Vaison, and the rest of Provence comes under the dual onslaught of the Visigoths under Euric and the Burgundians under Gundobad, he abandons (if only publicly) his pagan beliefs and seeks appointment as Bishop, realizing that with the secular power of the Roman Republic weakened beyond recovery, only the Catholic church's growing influence provides a sufficient basis for his ultimate goal: to maintain the essence of Roman civilization and culture while formally accepting the weight of the new political forces; by forming an alliance with Roman-educated Gundobad to save at least part of Provence from destruction by the Visigoths, and to ensure the continuance of Roman law and values under Burgundian administration. (As the author implicitly admits, this book's Manlius is loosely based on St. Avitus of Vienne, who lived approximately 50 years later, actually was an advisor to Gundobad, later converted Gundobad's son and successor Sigismund to Christianity, and whose most prominent piece of writing is a five-book-long poem on Original Sin, Expulsion from Paradise, the Deluge and the Crossing of the Red Sea which, 1100 years later, in part probably inspired Milton's "Paradise Lost.")

Strongly influenced by his muse's, Neoplatonian philosopher Sophia's teachings, Manlius lays down his own philosophy in sermons and letters - and in a treatise he entitles "The Dream of Scipio," for the like-named excerpt from Cicero's "Republica" describing - in the voice of Scipio Africanus - the great Roman's vision of the universe and the rewards of immortality awaiting the good statesman. But unlike Cicero's "Somnium Scipionis," Manlius's manuscript doesn't take the form of a dream by Scipio Junior about a conversation with Scipio Africanus but that of a dream *about* Scipio; or rather, a conversation between Sophia and Manlius about Scipio's comments on the fall of Carthage. And while in Manlius's penmanship the treatise thus contains primarily a discourse on the fall of Rome (and a response to Saint Augustine's "City of God"), this book's two other protagonists, Olivier and Julien, in turn come to appreciate its significance as a treatise on the fall of civilization in general: For Manlius holds that civilization is a purpose in and of itself, to be perpetuated either by action premised on this singular aim, or by teaching.

Olivier and Julien, however, draw different conclusions from Manlius's treatise than did its author for his own time. Olivier, a 14th century poet in the Avignon household of powerful Cardinal Ceccani (but like Manlius originally from Vaison) sees his world fall apart as the plague descends upon the South of France, while Ceccani and his rival Cardinal de Deaux vie for influence in the court of Pope Clement VI. Caught between the lines of political intrigue and the menace of the Black Death are Olivier's Jewish teacher Gersonides and his servant Rebecca. And unlike his master Ceccani, who (similar to Manlius) will sacrifice individuals for a perceived greater aim, Olivier takes the opposite approach, sacrificing himself for an act of humanity and placing the well-being of two individuals - Rebecca and Gersonides - over his master's far-reaching goals. Julien finally, a scholar who has retired to his hometown Vaison to outwait the horrors of the Third Reich and the Vichy Regime, is the most reluctant of all to take action, preferring instead to make his small contribution to the preservation of civilization through teaching. But eventually he is goaded into collaboration with the regime on the grounds that whatever he doesn't consent to do will be done by someone with true national-socialist fervor - only to realize too late, after his lover, Jewish painter Julia Bronsen has been sent to a "labor" camp, that evil actions taken for honorable reasons often constitute the greatest of all evils.

But it is not only "The Dream of Scipio" - written by Manlius, unearthed by Olivier and Julien - and the moral choices they face that unite this novel's three protagonists. Of similarly symbolic importance is the fate of the Jewish population, society's eternal all-purpose scapegoat (persecuted by Manlius, protected by Clement VI after Olivier's act of self-sacrifice and left to perish by Julien's failure to act); and each man is strongly influence by a dark-haired muse, an outsider of society in her own way. And then, there is a little chapel just outside Vaison: consecrated to Sophia (whom, like Manlius, Christian oral tradition has made into a saint for her manifold acts of goodwill), rediscovered by Olivier, decorated by his painter-friend Luca Pisano, and temporary sanctuary to Julien and Julia.

Iain Pears masterfully weaves together the fates of the three men, three pivotal historical moments - observed in the single nucleus of one Southern French town - and philosophical questions as old as civilization itself into this spellbinding successor to his equally stunning "Instance of the Fingerpost." Yet, his writing isn't ponderous or heavy-handed; and while some prior understanding of the philosophical concepts discussed may enhance the book's enjoyment, no great expertise in Neoplatonism or Catholic theology is required on the reader's side. This is historic fiction at its best: engaging, thoughtful and well-researched to boot.