In another group the deacon from Antioch, Aetius, a bold and fervent disciple of Arius, regarded as an atheist for his audacious and scoffing interpretations of the Trinity, was holding forth.
The career of Aetius had been remarkable for its extraordinary variety. At first a slave, he had afterwards become by turns a coppersmith, a sailor, a rhetorician, a pupil and teacher of Alexandrian philosophy, and finally a deacon.
"God the Father is in His substantial essence different from His Son," Aetius was saying with a smile and evident gusto, to the dismay of his hearers. "The Trinity has differentiations, degrees of glory, according to the nature of the personalities comprised in it. The word 'God' cannot be used of the Son, because He has never applied it to Himself. The Son has never even comprehended the essence of the Father, because it is impossible for Him who had a beginning to imagine that which has neither beginning nor end."
"Blaspheme not!" shouted an indignant bishop. "Where is this Satanic boldness going to stop, my brethren?"
"Drag not the simple-minded into perdition by your speeches!" shrieked another.
"Prove me wrong by philosophic reasoning, and I will acquiesce. But shouts and insults are proof of nothing but impotence," replied Aetius calmly.
"It is written in the Scriptures...."
"What is that to me? God has given intelligence to man that He himself might be understood. I believe in logic of argument and not in texts. Reason with me on the basis of the syllogisms and categories of Aristotle...."
And with a contemptuous smile he threw his surplice around him like the cynic mantle of Diogenes.
Some bishops were beginning to speak in favour of a universal creed in which mutual concession should be made, when the Arian Narcissus of Neronia, a profound expert in all statutes, creeds, and canons of the councils, intervened in discussion. He was a man little liked, suspected of adultery and usury, but admired by everyone for his theological erudition.