Thus Priscius, despising all things, awaited what he called the catastrophe, that is to say, the complete victory of Christianity over the Hellenists.
The wily and prudent Chrisantius, when the subject of the gods was touched on, would cast his eyes to heaven, avowing that he dared not talk about them, knowing nothing, and having forgotten what he had learnt on the subject. And he advised others to follow his own example. As for magic, miracles, and phantasms, he would hear nothing about them, declaring that they were criminal deceptions, forbidden by the Imperial laws.
Julian had no appetite, slept ill; his blood was boiling with passion and impatience. Every morning on awaking he would wonder—
"Is it to be to-day?"
He would worry the poor sages with ceaseless questions concerning mysteries and miracles. Some of them he shocked, especially Chrisantius, who was in the habit of acquiescence in all the opinions which seemed to him most foolish.
On one occasion Ædesius, a timid and learned old man, pitying Julian, said to him—
"My boy, I want to die quietly; you are young yet. Leave me alone. Address yourself to my disciples; they will reveal to you everything I have taught. Yes, there are many things about which we are afraid to speak, and when you shall have been initiated into the greater mysteries, you will perhaps be ashamed at having been born a mere mortal, and of having remained one up till now."
Euthemus of Minda, a disciple of Ædesius, and a jealous and malicious fellow, declared to Julian: "There are no more such things as miracles. Don't expect any. Men have badgered the gods too long. Magic is a lie, and those who believe in it are idiots. But if you are still hungry for wisdom, and absolutely must have illusions, go to Maximus. He despises our dialectical philosophy, and yet himself.... But I don't like speaking ill of my friends. Just hear, however, what happened lately in a temple of Hecate whither Maximus had conducted us to prove his art. When we had gone in and adored the goddess, he said to us: 'Sit down, and you shall see a miracle.' We sat down. He threw on the altar a phimian-seed, muttering something,—a hymn I suppose,—and then we saw the statue of Hecate smile at us! Maximus said to us: 'Fear nothing when you shall see the two torches held by the goddess kindle of themselves. Behold!' Before he had finished the sentence the lamps were alight, self-kindled!"
"The miracle, in fact, was accomplished!" cried Julian.
"Yes; our emotion was so great that we prostrated ourselves. But when I came out of the temple I asked myself, 'Is what Maximus does worthy of true philosophy?' Read Pythagoras, Plato—there shall you find wisdom. By divine dialectic to lift the heart of man—is not that finer than any miracle?"